Lord Elrond's Second Gift
by ADeclanFan
Summary: The story of a lonely old Elf who is given an unexpected second chance at happiness. The story of a girl who can't be what her King wants her to be, but finds who she is meant to be. Mostly Elrond/OFC non-canon romantic relationship. Trigger warning for suicide attempt in later chapter, and hints at same sex pairings.
1. Chapter 1

Elrond 1

"Utter madness," Elrond muttered, annoyed with himself. Insanity was the only reasonable explanation for his behavior.

Seeing to the comfort of new guests in Imladris was a normal part of his duties, practically stalking attractive female newcomers was certainly not. And yet, he was still doing it. The unbecoming behavior made him feel guilty, as did the traitorous ache in his loins watching her caused. Rampant lust just wasn't proper for a host toward a guest he'd met only two days before, and who happened to be younger than his own daughter.

His wood-elf visitor, Anniel, explored Imladris with such innocent delight. Each newly discovered flower or spectacular view was greeted with joy and wonder. Elrond never realized just how much he and his people took the city for granted, having Rivendell in all its glory and bounty unchanged for hundreds of years.

Arwen had offered the tour, but here he was following Anniel through gardens and past waterfall fed pools like a lovesick whelp. If he started waxing poetic on her beauty, Elrond vowed to lock himself in his study for at least a month of fasting and mediation to get a grip on the madness.

"Should we turn back?" The golden haired elf asked him, her eyes very large and very green.

Elrond shook his head, "Not unless you've grown too weary to continue your exploration. We haven't yet reached the uppermost garden. It's just ahead, over the top of the rise."

And so it went, his guest delighting in all she found in his home and Elrond trailing behind and secretly delighting in her.

"Lord Elrond is pouring my favorite vintage tonight," Haldir said. "I thank you." He gestured his goblet in salute.

Elrond smiled. "You have excellent taste. This vintage happens to be my favorite as well."

"I can't help but wonder if it is a coincidence, or if you are plying me with excellent wine to some purpose..."

The Lord of Imladris laughed, stretching his booted feet to rest casually on the edge of the firepit's stone wall. "What sort of plot do you imagine I am hatching? And to what end?"

Haldir took another sip of the wine and rolled it on his tongue. "My first thought was you intend to take advantage of me once I'm intoxicated. And then it occurred to me you might be seeking gossip rather than a bed partner. I hope it is the former, but I will not begrudge you if it is the latter."

"It can't be two companions sitting by a fire and sharing a drink after dinner? Or maybe I'm in need of a new Captain of my Guard and I've decided I want you to fill the post."

Haldir choked on his wine. "Tell me you aren't serious," he wheezed. "Lord Celeborn will flay us both."

"I have better taste in wine than Celeborn. And the invitation to my bed stands, as always."

"And they'll sing of my love of wine and sex in the lament when I've been dispatched to the Halls of Mandos for forsaking my oaths to my Lord and Lady for a life of ease and debauchery here with you."

Elrond shrugged, still playing with his friend and enjoying the game tremendously. "Galadriel will forgive you. She adores you, as she adores me, maybe even more so than you."

"Enough," Haldir groaned into his cup. "You may have my body, but you will not convince me to give up my home in Lothlorien. Now tell me straight out, what is it you are really about?"

Elrond took a final sip of his wine and then refilled their goblets. "Tell me about the the guests you have delivered into my keeping."

"What do you want to know? I will tell you what I can, of course."

Now that he had Haldir where he wanted him, it felt wrong to be grilling him about his favorite guest. "The fragile one, the girl. Where does she come from? Who are her kin?"

Haldir made a sound suspiciously close to a snort, and just stopped short of choking a second time. "You've just cost me a kiss from her Ladyship. I wagered it would take you at least a week to inquire about the seldë. My Lady said you'd be asking inside of three days and here we are merely at the end of day two."

The Elf-lord winced. "Am I so predictable?"

"Lady Galadriel seems to think you are." Haldir's head fell back against the back of his chair and he stared up at the stars. "I will tell you what I know. She was brought to us from Mirkwood by Prince Legolas near death from what Lady Galadriel calls Shadow sickness. Her parents are dead. Legolas is her only remaining kinsman."

Elrond was confused. "She's not related to the King, then?"

"No. Anniel is a cousin to Legolas on his mother's side. And from what I've heard from him, the poor thing bears an unfortunate resemblance to her aunt, Thranduil's lost Queen."

A puzzled frown furrowed Elrond's brow. "Unfortunate, in what way?"

"Lady Galadriel got Legolas to admit looking upon Anniel is difficult for Thranduil. He has never received her well, and when she was left orphaned and brought to Court, he wanted little to do with her."

"Oh." Once the reality of what such a thing could mean in the Woodland Realm, especially for someone young and female... "Oh, that can't bode well for her." Elrond thought of Arwen and how she would have faired without him or her brothers, add to it a King who was known for his coldness and it sounded like a pitiable existence. He learned with Arwen that seldë were a tricky business, female children were temperamental and fragile in turns.

Haldir nodded, sipping more wine. "It was decided an extended period of rest in a place far from Mirkwood would be best for her recovery."

"Do you think Thranduil will send someone to fetch her home?"

The younger man's eyes narrowed. "What the King wants is irrelevant. If she were to return while the Shadow still poisons Mirkwood, Lady Galadriel is certain she would die within months."

"Are others dying in Thranduil's court?"

Haldir shrugged. "Of this, we have no knowledge and Legolas would not speak of it."

"Most of his people are Silvan, but Anniel is not, perhaps they fair better against the poison from Dol Guldur." Elrond found the possibility filled with irony. "Silvan elves have ever been treated as inferior for being younger, more warlike, not as civilized. Perhaps they are simply tougher, and more resilient, and we are just jealous of them."

"I'm not jealous," Haldir grumbled. "There is something else. The first night she was attended by my Lady, Galadriel swears the girl died and was sent back to her body by Mandos himself. There was magic at work far beyond even the Lady of Light's healing skills."

"Now, I believe you are truly in your cups," Elrond chided him. "No Elf is shut out of that particular Hall."

There was a sardonic twist to Haldir's mouth. "Perhaps the Halls of Mandos are full, and the rest of us are out in the cold, now. The Shadow has claimed more than it's fair share in the last ten centuries."

Elrond upended his cup into his mouth, drinking deeply, because if they were going to speak on this subject, he would rather join in Haldir's intoxication. "I'm sending everyone who will go away to the Grey Havens. Including Arwen, if I can but convince her."

"The end approaches, all can feel it," Haldir agreed. He set his cup on the table and it wobbled for a few seconds before settling on it's base. "Will you go with them?"

"No. My work here is not yet finished." Then, he added, "It was my failure to act that allowed Sauron to get a second foothold in Middle Earth. If I'd taken the One Ring from Isildur by force, when I was given the chance, maybe more of our people would still be in Middle Earth and not awaiting a time when they can be reborn into flesh. Or maybe it would have brought about even more death in a full out war with Men."

"I have a hard time believing in rebirth for our kind," Haldir confessed. "We haven't had a child born in Lothlorien for over five centuries."

Elrond nodded, "It is the same here. The few who are brave enough to try find the vinë lost long before it was ready to be born. The Eldar are at an end, it seems."

"If we are to fall to Shadow, I say we do it with sword in hand and Orc blood on our armor."

Elrond nodded, "I agree."

"Admit it. You like Anniel."

"I admit nothing."

Haldir laughed, "You won't be able to deny it forever. There is no way you won't fall to her eventually, she shines as brightly as the combined light of every star on a clear summer night."

"And I thought I was terrible at waxing poetic," Elrond teased.

Haldir sniffed. "I may be drunk, but I know of what I speak."

"Would I be cutting in, if at some point, I asked Anniel to dance?" By dancing, they meant sex, of course.

"I cannot make a claim on a Lady who has never been mine. It might be a good idea to direct such a question at my Lady Galadriel, though. She grew quite fond of Anniel, and Anniel of her."

Elrond had to work to keep his inebriated brain from conjuring images of the two blonde females growing fond of each other in Galadriel's bed, but he had a bad feeling such images were going to appear in his dreams, now.

If that was to be his punishment for asking too many questions, so be it.

"If you'll excuse me, my Lord, I find I suddenly need to seek my bunk. Unless you are willing to help a friend in need..."

So Haldir had the same images in his head, too. "I'm always willing to help a guest when I can."

"My bed or yours?"

"Mine is bigger." And he wasn't talking just about his bed.

"Have you decided to test me, my Lady?" Elrond asked, mind to mind. His head ached this morning from last night's wine. He was sexually satisfied, and yet his fascination with his new guest remained undiminished.

It had to be a test.

There was a small delay in her reply, perhaps Galadriel was busy at some task, but he felt her puzzlement before he heard the reply, "In what way, my friend?"

Elrond sighed, "You deliver temptation into my home, and it is indeed a test, one of of willpower."

"If it is of Haldir you speak, by all means embrace temptation. So long as he is returned in proper working condition and doesn't take too many years to come home."

Laughing, Elrond said, "We shared two bottles of my best vintage last night and I've yet to see him out of bed this morn. He may be returning sooner than you think and if his head is as stuffed with wool as mine, it may take him years to find the correct road."

"What troubles you, Elrond?" When he hesititated, Galadriel prodded him gently, "It isn't like you to seek wine when something bothers you. Tell me." There was an undercurrent of command and he felt the tug of it, as any decent soldier would.

"Why is Anniel here and not with you?"

Galadriel gave a delighted laugh. "Because she is too much of a temptation for me, as well."

"So you send her here to blind me with her brilliance."

"Anniel is not a test, she is a gift given into your safe keeping."

Elrond choked on a sudden feeling of dread. "You've given me such a gift before, my Lady, and I utterly failed in keeping her safe."

That was the crux of the matter, he'd loved someone once, and she'd been nearly killed and he'd been unable to heal her, even with his skill. There was no choice for his wife except to leave her home and husband and children and sail from the Grey Havens into the West.

It was all his fault.

"Anniel is not Celebrian, they are as different as night is from day, and my daughter's fate was her own and not the result of any negligence by you."

"If I had sent more men that day..."

Galadriel sighed. "You would have lost men you needed to keep everyone safe and her fate would have been unchanged."

"You can't know that," Elrond snapped, testily.

"I do know it, Elrond Half-elven, and you forget yourself. My ability to See is unmatched in Middle Earth. I should be offended you have to be reminded of the fact."

Elrond hadn't meant to give offense, Celebrian was a touchy subject for him, even after all this time. "I offer my sincerest apologies, my Lady. I should have known you would look into all possible roads."

"I accept your apology for doubting my abilities, but I'm not so quick to forgive you for thinking I would send a beautiful woman to test your hospitality, or to cause you suffering. If Anniel is unhappy, there will always be a place for her here, but Lothlorien is only a stop on her journey. We would be wrong to keep her from becoming who she is meant to be for our own selfish reasons."

Elrond winced at her censure. "My desires are entirely selfish," he whispered.

The feel of Galadriel's amusement was a surprise. "Have you looked into her future, yet?"

"No."

"Perhaps, you should."

"Sounds like a terrible idea."

Galadriel made a sound suspiciously like a stifled giggle, but High Elven ladies never giggled. "Afraid?"

Was she really goading him by calling him a coward? He had no problem admitting it. "Terrified. And you and Lord Celeborn can enjoy it while it lasts."

"Celeborn is of the opinion you've long needed someone to shake you up. It's never good for an old Elf-lord to be alone for too long." They both knew it led to fading and ultimately death.

Now, it was Elrond's turn to take offense. "I am not fading! There is too much to do. I don't have time to fade. Tell your husband he can go..."

"Peace, Elrond," Galadriel soothed his flare of temper. "It's permitted to be selfish once in a while, your solitude is indeed unhealthy, and love always does more good than harm."

"I'm not going to look."

"That is your choice, of course." Galadriel started to release their mind link, but before it was completely gone, he heard her say, "Sometimes surprises are pleasant ones."

On the fourth day after her arrival in Rivendell, Elrond found Anniel in a quiet corner of the library, so engrossed in reading a manuscript and gently humming to herself, she didn't notice him watching her for several minutes.

His hand fisted over his heart. Anniel looked as if she belonged there with her ankles tucked up into the soft chair under her, wavy golden hair pooled on the parchment as she read.

Elrond recognized defeat when he tasted the bitterness of it on his tongue. There would be no holding himself to a dignified distance with this guest, and once he accepted it as truth, the relief was dizzying.

He cleared his throat and she smiled up at him, guiltily. "Am I humming again? Forgive me. Legolas teases me mercilessly about that habit. I hope I haven't disturbed you."

"Music is never unwelcome in Rivendell." Elrond offered her a small smile, "I haven't heard the particular tune in a very long time."

Her eyes lowered, self-consciously. "Songs are a passion of mine. I spent much of my recovery in Caras Galadhon in the library taking note of every song I could lay hands upon. " A tiny line of worry formed on her forehead, "Am I in your way here? Or is there something you needed from me, my Lord?"

More than I think you are ready to give an old, battered Elf-lord, Elrond thought to himself, but to her question, he replied, "How are you feeling? Galadriel said you might still require healing for a time."

"A little tired, perhaps, today. There is so much to explore in Rivendell. You've been kind to show me as much as you have. I'm sure you have more important things to do."

"Not at all, my dear. The comfort of my guests is always foremost in my thoughts. You are looking a little pale this morning, and if you don't mind laying your reading aside for a few minutes, I'd like to see if I can discover the cause."

Elrond took the parchment from her and set it aside. Then, he knelt before her chair and took her hands in his. At her frown, he said, "Try to relax. Let the energy move from my hands to yours and then up your arms. It should feel like warmth, but not so much that it causes discomfort."

The experienced healer struggled to center himself enough to let the energy flow outward. It wouldn't come to him. When he brought her fingers to his lips instead, for some reason that was better, easier.

His eyes drifted shut as he used his power to search her body for imperfections and weakness. It was strange, as if the darkness of Mirkwood's taint had chewed at the edges of her fëa leaving her soul bruised and tattered, raw.

Elrond soothed at the damage, infinitely gentle.

Anniel's response to his work was a sigh of relief. Her head fell back against the chair baring her throat to him and Elrond found the sight of the line of pale skin irresistible. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss under her chin, then when she didn't resist, he trailed his lips along her jaw.

Their breathing mingled together, and her head tilted to give him access as he panted against her skin.

Healing never felt particularly erotic before, but then Anniel's wounds weren't of rent flesh and broken bone. Her very soul was damaged. Skin contact was as necessary as the power he sent into her.

Pulling back, separating his fëa from hers left an ache in him.

Elrond cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lips. One kiss, he promised himself, but it soon turned into more. He left ashamed at his very forward behavior and the loss of control. "Forgive me..." he huffed, breath hot on the side of her neck. "We... I... this isn't how it is. Normally. I'm sorry, Anniel."

"I thought I was imagining it. The unbearable tension... I thought it was just me," Anniel admitted, guiltily.

Frowning, he shook his head, "No, it's not just you."

The young wood-elf looked relieved, "Is there someplace nearby where we won't be interrupted?"

"Anniel, we shouldn't rush things." Elven seduction was a slow dance, step and counter step lasting sometimes months or years before advancing, looks and brushes of fingers as important as kisses.

Arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer, clinging and drawing him into her. In his ear, she whispered, "I want nothing more in this moment than to rip your coat and get my hands on your skin."

Any hope of slowing down went out the window with her admission and Elrond lifted her out of the chair, letting Anniel get her feet under her, and giving in to the urge to hold her that had been plaguing him for days. "Finally," he sighed. She felt every bit as good in his arms as he'd imagined she would.

"You must have someplace private. Please."

He released her, searching her face. "How old are you, seldë?"

Anniel grinned at him, rolling her eyes impatiently at being called a child. "Old enough to have sex with you or anyone else I choose. If you must know, I'm three hundred plus ninety four. If you don't believe me, I celebrated my birthday while I was a guest of Lady Galadriel." Her eyes narrowed, "She called me a pretty vinë and showered me with gifts as if I were a child of ten and not nearly four centuries."

Old enough, Elrond thought to himself, relieved. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her into the next room, and then another, until he came to a bookcase in an isolated corner.

"A secret door?" Anniel asked, when he triggered the latch and the bookshelf slid out from the wall.

Elrond had no trouble carrying her and closing the door behind them. Anniel had almost no weight in his arms, like carrying a child. And he had every intention of speaking to his assistants and the kitchen staff about feeding her properly.

There was a series of dark, cavernous rooms behind the bookcase, a vault full of documents he didn't allow the population of Imladris access to without proof of a dire need, another with a solid iron door locked with half a dozen complicated locks holding treasure and weapons enough for a small army, and a third room with a bed and spring fed bath where he retired when he didn't want even his children or assistants to disturb his rest or meditation.

He dropped her and Anniel bounced lightly on the soft mattress, "Secret rooms... and a bed. How lucky for us."

"You are the first to see these rooms, other than myself, since they were built." Removing his coat, Elrond approached the bed.

Anniel reached for the hem of her filmy summer dress and Elrond gently pushed her hands away. "No, let me. You are my present to unwrap." His hands traveled up her calves and lifted the thin fabric with them, baring her a bit at a time. Her skin was so soft, like the finest silken cloth only better, warmer.

Elrond pressed kisses to her inner thighs, gently opening her legs until he could reach her core, taste her. The first flick of his tongue made Anniel gasp. Her hand clutching at his coat, nails biting into the skin of his neck as he feasted on her and was more than ready to take her.

Standing, he undressed, leaving his clothing in a heap on the stone floor, and returned to the bed. Anniel moved back to give him room to join her and he took the opportunity to tug the dress over her head.

Her perfect breasts demanded worship, as did the plump, sweet flesh of her sex. He explored Anniel, teased her, relished every sound he dragged from her lips.

"Please," she begged, wild with need of him to be done with the games and fill her.

With a sigh, Elrond settled himself between her widely spread thighs, teasing her wetness with just the tip of him until he was sure she was impossibly slick for him.

"Mercy," Elrond breathed, disbelieving, "are you a complete innocent?"

Anniel pulled a face, "No."

"How can anyone be so tight?" He wondered aloud through gritted teeth. "I don't want to hurt you."

Tugging his hair, so he would stop resting his weight on his arms and settle over her, Anniel sighed, "You are thick, but not terribly so. I'm not made of glass, my Lord, you can move."

The act of withdrawing and sliding in a second time was hampered by her tightness. It took a least a dozen slow glides to fully fill her. Eventually, he gave in to her urging and lined their bodies up, covering her.

Her reaction was a moan that he felt all the way to where they were joined. The tight muscles clenched at him with her pleasure and almost undid him.

"Faster. Harder. More."

Elrond lifted his head to give her a quelling look. "Am I to take my orders from you, my Lady? If so, we are in the wrong position." Though the bed was narrow, he managed to roll them and put Anniel astride him, all without leaving her heat.

Her smile answered his question well enough. "Oh, yes..." she hissed. Now, it the speed of their movements and how deeply she took him was set by Anniel.

Elrond would come to remember this as the only time in his memory he could ever remember begging a female lover for mercy. The willowy wood-elf was relentless, riding him to her pleasure twice before making him pound her into the mattress and find his own release.

Or maybe it was a shared release, he was already greying out from sensory overload and may have missed her orgasming a third time. Before he collapsed, Elrond pulled her to him, kissed her and tucked her into the curve of his body.

He awoke hours later to find himself covered with a blanket and Anniel gone on about her day.

At least once a week, from that point forward, Elrond would catch Anniel either in the halls outside her bedroom late at night, or in the library, and ravish her. It became a game between them, she would even leave amusing clues for him to follow.

For his part, Elrond made sure she would never be mistaken for a virginal maid by anyone ever again, but Anniel didn't seem to mind. There were many things old Elves learned about sex a young one could benefit from.


	2. Chapter 2

Nine years before Fellowship of the Ring...

"Do you think Anniel is happy here?"

Arwen looked up from her mending, and smiled at her father. "I think she is very happy here." Or, Arwen thought, at least she was very happy last week after her first Midsummer Festival in Imladris. Arwen made sure of it, personally.

Elrond accepted the answer, but asked, "Has she made any mention of returning to Lothlorien or Mirkwood?"

"Not to me, no," replied Arwen. "Why do you ask?"

"Anniel has lived with us for months, and I was thinking it might be time to give her a place of her own here in Rivendell. The upper cottage has been vacant for quite some time, and while it's not large, it would offer her more privacy and a sense of independence."

Arwen winced. "Ada, it would need too much work to make habitable after so many years of being unoccupied." The place was probably full of squirrels and rats. "Still, it is quaint and private, and there are tall trees in the courtyard by the waterfall, if Anniel is missing the forests of home."

"I'll have Lindir look the place over and make a list of needed cleaning and repairs."

"I can go through the storage rooms and find furnishings to make the place more like a home," Arwen volunteered. "If I can't find what I'm looking for I'm sure we have people enough willing to donate items or make them new."

"You know what Anniel needs, don't you?" he asked his daughter.

Her face lit up with a grin, and she nodded, "A combined birthday and new resident welcome party... with a feast."

"Exactly." As an afterthought, he added, "I'll ask Galadriel exactly when her birthday is and we will try to have all the work finished before then."

"Do I have to wear this cloth over my eyes?" Anniel huffed. "I feel ridiculous."

"We're almost there. Just a few more steps." Arwen tugged her hand in the direction of her birthday surprise, and though she couldn't see him, Anniel could feel Lord Elrond walking close behind her.

He added, "It will be worth the foolishness."

Anniel wasn't so sure.

The people of imladris has been acting oddly around her since Midsummer, and most perplexing was the behavior of Arwen and her father. They were working on something, some project and it took up a great deal of time, especially Arwen's time.

Nobody would tell her anything.

Finally, they stopped and Arwen turned Anniel around to face Lord Elrond. Behind her, Arwen said, "You have been our guest for nearly a year, Anniel. Are you happy in Rivendell?"

It was a silly question. How could they fail to see how happy she was? "I've never been more happy."

Elrond smiled, and looked relieved at the same time. "It is time for your tenure as our guest to come to an end. If you want to remain, and we both hope this is the case, you deserve a place of your own."

He turned her around and Arwen stepped out of the way to reveal a courtyard Anniel knew well from her explorations. The boarded up house-front she was used to seeing on her short cut to the library had been rebuilt and painted to look new. The wood was painted a shade of pale grey that complimented the stone of the surrounding mountain. The trim was like smudged charcoal and the effect was wonderful.

"This is your surprise? You restored this for me?"

"It has been vacant for many years, because it is only a small cottage and not large enough to house an entire family, but we hoped it would have enough space for one person. You."

Into her hand, Lord Elrond placed a shiny copper key. It was warm from being in his hand too long. Anniel looked down at the key, struggling for words.

They were giving her a place of her own, her own home.

"It is not to say you are no longer welcome as a guest in our home, if you are content to remain where you are, but most find the guest rooms have little privacy," Arwen explained, "and as you know our home can be crowded and noisy." She took the key from Anniel, impatiently, and put it in the shiny new lock on the shiny new door handle.

It turned easily and the door swung inward on silent hinges. Anniel crept forward to peek inside, Elrond's warm hands on her shoulders gently urged her forward.

There were no words. The little old house was beautiful inside.

The main room was large, with an impossibly high arched ceiling carved from the stone of the hillside. It was divided into a sitting area with a couch before a woodstove, an eating area with a table and two chairs, and the far corner was lined on two walls with warm wood bookcases filled with books.

In the reading area, Anniel frowned to see her favorite, worn but comfortable chair from the library. "No no no," she said, as she turned to Elrond, "where will I sit in the library, if you've brought my favorite chair here?"

The Elf-Lord laughed, raising a hand to allay her concern, "As it turns out, the chair was half of a matched pair and this one Arwen rescued from storage. Your chair is where it has always been."

The polished stone floor gleamed where it wasn't covered with the most beautiful rugs Anniel had ever seen with deep jewel tone patterns worked with gold. The large front window was covered in sheer cream silk to let light in and accented with velvet drapes the color of ripe blueberries.

A doorway led to a tiny sitting room and bedroom furnished with a bed twice the size of the one in Anniel's guest room. With a smirk, she wondered if the size of the bed was Lord Elrond's idea or Arwen's.

An archway, cleverly hidden behind an elaborately painted screen in the corner, led to the bathing and changing area. The strangest thing was it looked as if the bath had a small waterfall filling it from a spout at the top of the wall, but the water in the tub was steaming like a thermal pool.

"Yes. It is a thermal pool and you can stand under the opening like bathing in a waterfall, the flow is adjustable. We were surprised to find it in here," Elrond answered her unspoken question. "There is also a way to release the water from the pool and add fresh water from the waterfall that runs on this hillside. Someone was very clever."

Anniel frowned at him, confused, "I thought you built the city."

"I saw plans for each of the main buildings, but many have been added since the founding to accommodate an increasing number of residents. I've never seen more than the outside of this house, and for some reason I can't find a record of who designed this." He looked over his shoulder, to see where Arwen had gone, and then added, "The location seemed perfectly suited to you, on the path to the library. And, you are still close enough to join me in my bed."

At her gasp of surprise, he smiled. "Or I will come to you."

"My Lord, I don't know what to say..."

Elrond took her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. "Say you will make Imladris home, your permanent home, and that is all the thanks I need."

"I can't imagine living anywhere else."

"Good. I believe we forgot to mention the new resident welcoming party tonight with a feast in your honor. And I'm almost certain there are birthday gifts, as well."

Arwen rescued her from her shock, by adding, "We can't let my grandmother outdo us with the birthday gifts you received last year in Lothlorien."

Anniel hugged Arwen and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you. All this is already the best gift. I've never had a place of my own."

"Then it was well past time you did."

Arwen went out before them, and Lord Elrond whispered in Anniel's ear, "I'll take a kiss, too, but I can wait. Maybe you will want someone to share the bed with you on the first night, in case you hear strange noises."

"The only noises will be the ones we make, and you know it."

There was a little known tradition in Imladris, and it dated back to the founding of the city. When new residents settled in the city, be they Elves or Men, there was a party in their honor.

Each resident took one item from their home and gave it as a welcome gift, to make the new residence more homey.

Anniel was daunted by the number of soft, woven blankets and pillows with fine gold embroidery she received as gifts. Pitchers and candlesticks and potted plants were the next in sheer number. The most surprising was the trees. Six families had gone into the forests and scouted young conifer saplings and planted them in huge pots in an effort to make her little area more like the woodlands where she was raised.

Her birthday gifts followed the welcome feast, and left Anniel stunned by their kindness and generousity. "No, please, no more gifts, I beg you. A dragon is going to come if anyone gives me more gold or jewels." Her voice rose in panic as another package was placed in her hands.

Lord Elrond laughed. "I'm afraid you must suffer one more, but I'm fairly certain this is the last of them." He put a box into her hand and waited patiently while she untied the complicated bow on the top and removed the lid.

"Oh, my..." Anniel gasped. In the package was a cloak pin, at it's heart a square emerald the side of her thumb, circled by diamonds that glittered white and clear and gold filigree that formed the pin into the shape of a tree. "I cannot accept this."

"Why ever not?"

Anniel looked at him like he was mad. "It is too fine, too beautiful. What if the clasp breaks and it is lost?"

"I will have ten more made just like it, or designed even more to your liking. The emerald reminds me of your eyes. I fear most of the gifts you will get from me will have them, so tell me now if you prefer diamonds or sapphires or rubies."

Anniel shut him up with a kiss.

"Am I not allowed to shower my lovers with gifts?"

"I don't think I can stop you."

"No. You can't. So, enjoy it. I can give you a sack of gold coins if you'd like to spread them over the bed and roll around on them, like a dragon."

Anniel burst into laughter at the thought. "Not necessary. Truly. I want for nothing here, I'm perfectly content."

"Perfectly content?"

"Well, you have been neglecting me in bed to arrange all these magnificent surprises, but I might just forgive you if I think you'll make it up to me by letting me be on top, at least at the first."

Elrond's eyebrows went up. And then he grinned. "By all means, my Lady, I am at your service."


	3. Chapter 3

Four years before Fellowship of the Ring...

Elrond froze in his tracks, eyeing the juvenile mountain cat sprawled across the rug in front of the glowing embers in the stove. He'd never seen the creature in Anniel's house before, but the wild animal twitched an ear in his direction, opened one eye to see what disturbed it's sleep and then, as if it knew the Elf was no threat, stretched it's long front legs and returned to sleep.

"Anniel?!" Elrond called, not sure if he wanted to take his eyes off the predator on the hearth rug. "Why is there a wild animal in front of your fire?"

With a sigh, Anniel forced herself out of the warmth of the bed. Belting her robe, she passed through the archway into the front room to glare at the cat. "I kicked him off the bed, and I guess he is sulking by the fire."

"It shouldn't be inside at all."

The feline raised it's tuft-eared head and glared at Elrond.

"He doesn't like being refered to as 'it'. It makes him testy."

Elrond looked at her as if she'd gone mad, but a hand on his arm stopped comment. "Cat, my friend, would you mind going outside, so I can speak privately?"

"That is a wild creature, it doesn't understand..."

But even as the words left his mouth, the cat stood to it's full height, spine above the height of Elrond's knee, and started a leisurely glide to the door.

Anniel opened it before him and he left with only one small disdainful snuffle in the direction of the intruder.

"How is that possible?"

"You are a several thousand year old Elf-lord, you tell me."

The gruffness in her voice put his back up. "Wild animals are dangerous. If you've been feeding it, you must stop this instant."

Anniel laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Me feeding him? Mercy, no. The fowl cat leaves a dead rat for me on the floor beside my bed every morning. I certainly do not feed him, but he does his best to feed me. Whether I like it or not. And as to why he is on the rug? We negotiated a treaty, so he would stop trying to sleep in the bed beside me."

"Just how long has this been going on?" Elrond asked, crossly.

"Cat wandered across the bridge and away from his litter in early spring. We have been at war ever since. A truce was reached about a month ago in which I let him in from the approaching winter snows and he doesn't take his wild animal claws to the paint on my front door."

Elrond scowled. "And you never thought to mention it to me, or anyone else? Lindir, maybe? Arwen?"

"He was pitifully small when I first saw him. I was afraid he would die of starvation, but I refused to hand feed him because, of course, if he was very hungry he could venture back across the bridge to his mother's milk. I even carried him across the bridge in my cloak twice and set him beside his litter mates. Each time he returned to this side of the river and made a tiny pathetic sound outside my door."

Elrond sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did when his head ached, but he remained silent and gestured for her continue her tale.

"And for the record, I did tell someone, and Lindir has tried on several occasions to trap Cat, but he is far too clever."

"It acts like it understands you."

There was a bump on the door that made them both jump. Anniel turned the knob and on the doorstep sat two large, very dead, rats. Cat moved to pick them up and Anniel yelped, "No. Bad Cat, no more nasty rats in the house. I don't eat rat meat, and I can't stand the sound of you crunching their bones." At that, Cat picked up one of the rats and dropped it at Elrond's feet instead.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Peace offering?"

"Rat is not something I eat unless it is well cooked and only then in the most dire of hunger." Frowning at the mountain cat, he added, "You have a thick winter coat, you don't need to digest your rats in front of a fire."

Cat dropped it's dinner with the other one and circled around Anniel's legs, scent marking her with his face and flipping his tail at Elrond in challenge.

"Ah, no. This female is not yours, she is mine."

Anniel laughed, "Do you think Cat considers me it's mate?"

"No. I think it has decided you are a better mother than the one who gave birth to it. And there are more rats and mice on this side of the river without his litter mates to give him competition." He put his hand out to touch an ear and the cat growled at him.

"This creature is lazy," Elrond pronounced. "And if he thinks to take my place in your warm bed, he will find himself trapped, tied in a sack and carried halfway to Lothlorien before the sun sets on a single day."

"It almost sounds as if you are jealous," Anniel teased.

"Jealousy would not be necessary if you weren't offering your bed to someone else."

"Cat has a mind of his own."

"So I see."

Anniel tugged his arm. "He isn't in the bed right now."

Elrond's eyes widened, and then he nodded, "Lead on."

That evening, Anniel was out gathering wood for the stove when a familiar figure approached her little house. "Mithrandir?!" She dropped the wood back on the pile and dusted off her hands.

Anniel hugged the old wizard, hard, making him chuckle at her enthusiasm. "Yes, my dear. I've returned. At least, for a few days."

When Gandalf stepped aside, Elrond stepped up beside him. "I want Mithrandir to give me his impression of your feline guest."

"I thought I told you to behave until my return," the wizard playfully scolded the young wood-elf.

"It isn't my fault," she pouted.

"Where is this magnificent beast? I'm no Radagast the Brown, but I can usually tell if a creature is unnatural or poses a danger."

Turning the handle, she pushed the door in and was immediately met by Cat, who greeted her return by bumping his head into her thigh. "We have a guest, Cat. You be on your best behavior."

At her warning, the huge feline chuffed loudly and stretched his front legs.

Elrond entered next, with Gandalf last, and he wisely left the door open as an escape route for either man or beast should one be needed.

The wizard blinked at the cat. "Oh. Well. Aren't you beautiful and completely out of place in this small Hobbit house."

Anniel grinned. "I call him 'Cat' for lack of a more accurate name. I don't even know what sort of a feline he is other than one with muscle and teeth and claws to spare and an unflagging appetite for rats."

"I haven't seen one of his kind in at least two hundred years, and he was a roaming creature traveling with a wood-elf companion along the borders between Mirkwood and Lothlorien. That one preferred fish from the river. Raw." The shudder the wizard gave was enough to set them all laughing.

"Why would they be settling around here?" Elrond asked, curious and not happy at the prospect of his city becoming a cat refuge. "This is not Mirkwood." His tone said he was very glad it wasn't.

Anniel took his cloak and hat and settled the wizard on her couch with a steaming cup of tea before he continued, "Why did Anniel come here from Mirkwood herself? The evil is spreading at an alarming rate these days. A smart lynx would know something was wrong, and a telepathic lynx, as I suspect this one is, would feel driven toward areas that offer protection from evil, such as Imladris."

"Telepathic lynx?" Anniel asked.

"He understands you, yes? Does as you ask if you phrase it firmly and clearly?"

Elrond huffed, "It listens. I wouldn't go as far as obeying."

"Much like any other adolescent. This creature has it's own desires and instincts, of course, it is a wild animal, but if you give him boundaries, he will endeavor to stay within them."

Anniel nodded.

"Do you always speak to him, or does he seem to anticipate you?"

"Once or twice, I got the feeling he knew what I wanted before I told him. He would move off the rug, or out of my way."

"The other lynx bonded with the Elf a very few days after it was born. He happened upon the den while the mother was foraging, and once the kitten could walk it was off in search of the Elf, who lived in a treehouse nearby. Nothing he tried would convince the kitten to stay with it's mother."

Anniel groaned.

Mithrandir smiled sympathetically, "I take it this sounds familiar?"

"Yes."

"As it happens, once the lynx reached maturity, the wood-elf could hear it's mind voice and understood what had happened. The newborn's first time hearing a mind voice should have been his mother or another kitten, but she was away and Elves are all telepathic to some degree."

To Elrond, he nodded, "And some, show a great aptitude for mind to mind communication."

"I can't hear anything."

"I'm not surprised. Most Elves prefer to stay walled inside the silence of their own heads. It takes many years of training to first lower the walls. Then, one must learn to filter the noise or go stark raving mad from it."

"Exactly." Elrond well knew this, and added, "I was first trained to send commands mind to mind on a battlefield. Now, I can communicate over long distances with a group of people or an individual."

"This lynx has me confused with it's mother?"

Mithrandir grinned behind his teacup. "No, my dear. He knows you are not a cat, and he knows where the mother's territory lies." He added, as an afterthought, "I think he just likes you and has decided you have a nice den he wishes to share."

"Oh, dear." The wizard blinked, looked at the lynx, and then at Elrond. "Well, what did you expect? She has a mate. If you consulted him before claiming Anniel's den as yours, her mate would be less angry with you. Lord Elrond is the dominant two leg here, and he doesn't like surprises in the middle of the night. No, rats are not an acceptable apology. You are more than welcome to all of them."

"I think I can hear him," Elrond added, "but it isn't language as we use it. I get images. Visual and sound pictures."

"Yes, exactly. Come spring, this fellow will make an excellent Orc hunting companion or a very protective guard lynx."

Grumbling, Anniel said, "Great."

"Is there a way to break the connection?" Her lover asked, with just a little too much enthusiasm.

Gandalf smiled at the Elf-lord. "I don't know. It seems one way for now, and is not hurting either of them."

"Why do you think it should be removed?" Anniel asked him.

Elrond's lips tightened, "It's nothing. Never mind."

The lynx hissed at him, baring a mouthful of sharp teeth.

It was Gandalf who answered her, "Anniel, one of the main uses Elves have for telepathy is connecting mind to mind with a lover or partner. I think Lord Elrond is a little put off your first telepathic connection is with someone other than him."

"So you really are jealous? Of a cat?" Elrond scowled at her, but she forgave him because he looked so unhappy.

"You can negotiate for the lynx to stay out of your bed, and you did well on that because he could have fleas or worse yet ticks," Mithradir told her, "but you can't undo what was done in the forest that day without risking harm to you both."

To her jealous lover he said, "My Lord Elrond, if you feel strongly about mind to mind communication, perhaps you should teach her. Or send Anniel for a visit to Lady Galadriel for lessons."

Both she and Gandalf didn't need telepathy to know his thoughts. The look on his face said he had no intention of turning such intimate things over to Lady Galadriel.

Anniel wasn't sure a little jealousy was such a bad thing, after all.

Six months of grueling practice and Anniel was finally able to lower her mental defenses and stretch her consciousness out to far-see a certain traveling Elf-lord.

He wouldn't be returning for nearly a week from his meeting with his contacts in the North and Anniel missed him.

Keeping the touch light, she sent Elrond what she hoped was a small mental brush, like a kiss. Anniel didn't expect it when he felt her and gave her a tug to deepen their connection. She let out a very loud gasp of surprise.

"Is something wrong?" Arwen asked her.

Anniel sighed, "No, nothing wrong, but I think I'll go to bed. I want to get an early start on the garden beds tomorrow." She couldn't exactly tell Arwen her father was currrently thinking about how much he would rather be in Anniel's bed than in a bedroll on lumpy ground beside a fire. And when he started to imagine what he wanted to be doing to her, she knew it was time to go to bed.

They played the mental teasing game for a quarter of an hour, until she could feel sleep trying to claim him. Then, she reluctantly let the connection go.

As she drew back into herself, she felt the tingle of another mind brush hers. Not intentionally, at first, more like they stumbled across each other. The touch grew stronger, like it was studying her, puzzling her out. It reminded Anniel of looking through a spyglass and seeing someone looking back at you through a spyglass. Once they 'saw' each other, the connection could be made.

Galadriel. The raw magical power coming from the High Elven lady sent a shudder through the young wood-elf. To look at her, the Lady of Light gave no outward sign of just how dangerous she could be. In fact, the entire time Anniel recovered in Lothlorien, she never suspected Galadriel was more than a normal seer and healer, but she was much, much stronger. Power magnified many times over.

"There is no reason to fear me, Anniel. I would never harm you."

Anniel's eyes widened. If she could feel Galadriel, of course, the reverse was true. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you, my Lady. This is the first time I've attempted to far-see over so great a distance. Lord Elrond needed to rest and I don't know how to reverse this process..."

"You made contact with Elrond?"

Anniel swallowed hard, "Yes, or more accurate to say once I was close he made the connection with me."

There was a moment of quiet and in it she felt a progression of emotions Anniel was sure weren't coming from herself: puzzlement, dawn of understanding, admiration, pride, and the last was such an overwhelming amount of affection and tenderness it brought tears to Anniel's eyes.

Galadriel's presence in her mind withdrew just a little, giving Anniel a chance to catch her breath. "How long has Elrond been giving you lessons on mind to mind communication?"

"A few months."

There was deep respect now in the feel of the Lady's thoughts, but also the amusement was back. "Four days and you were already missing him enough to attempt to far-see?"

Of course, Galadriel knew of Elrond's trip, Lord Celeborn was joining him. "Yes," Anniel confessed, chagrinned.

"You are completely besotted. And I mean the pair of you." She let Anniel feel how happy she was for them, for their love. "How long were you able to maintain the connection? This sort of communication is very draining. How do you feel?"

Tired to the point of her head aching and her stomach churning, Anniel thought to herself. As if in answer to the thought, she felt a wave of healing warmth and peace come through their connection. A sigh of relief slipped from her lips.

"Better?"

"Yes, my Lady. Thank you."

Galadriel's mind was so calm, despite the sheer strength of her presence. Anniel realized just how much she missed her. Five and a half years was a long time and she'd never managed a visit to Lothlorien since making Imladris her home.

"Perhaps, I should visit Imladris in the summer. It's been too long since I've seen you and even longer since I've seen Arwen."

It was terribly disconcerting to have someone answer your thoughts, and Anniel's frown made Galadriel chuckle. Anniel responded by thinking of kissing her, expecting the High Elven lady to be shocked or dismayed.

Galadriel response was just the opposite, delight filled their link. And a memory from the night they'd said goodbye with more than just words.

Anniel groaned.

"Once the men have returned, I will come to Imladris. Would you like that?"

"You can feel what I feel, so you know the answer is very much yes."

Galadriel sent another wave of warmth, and it made Anniel yawn. "I will help you return to yourself, but you must promise me not to to far-see again for at least four days. I don't want you stretching yourself too thin. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lady."

It was like having someone put an arm around you and walk you home. Galadriel supported and guided her, and the connection faded with Anniel falling asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

During Fellowship Of The Ring...

Something was terribly wrong. Anniel knew from the way Elrond gasped and lost all the color she'd worked so hard to put on his cheeks.

He mumbled a distracted apology as he slipped from the bed, pulled on his robe and went out onto the balcony.

A minute later, she could hear him talking quietly. He wasn't speaking to her, or himself, but conversing with Lady Galadriel through their mental connection. Anniel fought against the waves of post lovemaking lethargy to try to pick up snippets of their conversation, but long before Elrond returned, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Elrond watched Anniel curled on her side in his bed from his chair by the window, while he struggled against the grief and despair he felt over the news that Mithrandir had not made it to Caras Galadhon with the rest of the Fellowship.

Why had they gone into Moria and awoken a Balrog? What could Mithrandir have been thinking taking such a perilous route?

It mattered little, now. Legolas believed Gandalf the Grey was dead. As did, it seemed, Aragorn and Boromir.

Could they make it to Mount Doom without his guidance? Possibly. Would the Fellowship hold together with Aragorn acting as guide to Frodo? As much as he loved the Man, success would be much harder without the more diplomatic wizard guiding the stubborn, naive Hobbits.

If success was slipping away, then they were all doomed.

Tomorrow, Elrond would call his people together and urge them to leave Middle Earth immediately. It was past time for such action, but Elrond had hoped... Anniel had renewed his flagging spirit so much in the past few years that he'd dared to believe defeating the evil of Sauron was possible.

Such hope was folly, pure and simple.

Elrond would remain and do what needed to be done, until his end came. He didn't fear death, he knew there was an existence beyond the physical, but he worried for his young lover. She wouldn't leave him, no matter the danger they would face.

Years ago, Elrond refused to look into Anniel's future, even when Galadriel urged him to. In the darkness, he let himself go to the place in his mind where he could sometimes see beyond the present and into things possible.

i Anniel was smiling. She looked down, and his gaze followed hers... to see an infant suckling greedily at her bare breast. Her finger stroked along the chubby cheek, encouraging and soothing.

"Slow down," Anniel crooned to the newborn. "I'm not going to let you starve." She tugged the blanket back to show him the copper colored fuzz on the baby's head. "I think I'd like to name her Tauren, to honor both Tauriel and Arwen. Strong women."

He had no physical form in his visions, and it was jarring when a boy of maybe four or five years passed through him to stand beside Anniel. He peered down at the baby and made a face at her. Anniel laughed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "It will be some time before she can see you well enough to make faces with you, but if you are patient, Tauren will be your playmate before too long. It will be your job as her older brother to make sure she knows about splashing in mud puddles and climbing trees to pick apples. Do you think you can handle that?"

The dark haired boy with Elrond's own eyes nodded solemnly, "Yes, Ama." /i

Elrond wished he could lose himself in the vision, but had to content himself with crawling back into the bed and pulling Anniel into his arms. He thought Anniel was asleep until she rolled them over, and he didn't complain when she guided him into her heat with a sound of contentment.

"You are insatiable, my dear," Elrond sighed.

"Whatever has happened, you can be sad and fret about it tomorrow."

"I hope you don't think I'm leaving Rivendell with the others."

Elrond looked up from the supply list he was double checking to frown at her. "No, I am well aware you are far too stubborn to do the sensible thing and go someplace safe while a war is being fought all around you."

Anniel didn't like the censure in his voice one bit. "I'll leave when and if you leave, my Lord."

"You know I can't," Elrond insisted, loudly enough to draw the attention of others in the room.

"Of course, you can't. You have to stay and save Middle Earth. The One Ring being found is your fault. Sauron is your fault, too, somehow, I'm sure. " Anniel wasn't shouting, exactly, shouting would have required unclenching her teeth. "You can't be responsible for everything and everyone, or fight every battle."

The Elf-lord came out of his chair. "Is that what you think? I'm well aware I can't fight every battle, Anniel. I gave up trying a long time before you were born. There are a few battles left in me, though. I won't sit idly by and let others do all the bleeding, if it comes to that."

Her growl sounded very much like her lynx's, and everyone was staring at them as if they'd gone completely mad. They were toe to toe, chest to chest, and though he as taller by half a head, Anniel stood her ground. "Of course, my Lord. If you don't get yourself killed trying to fix all the problems in Middle Earth, how can you possibly live with yourself?!"

Arwen forcibly put herself between her father and the furious wood-elf maiden. "Is shouting at each other going to solve anything?"

Elrond took a deep breath and a step back. "No. No, it isn't." He turned and stalked off in the direction of his office, papers left behind.

"You are impossible!" Anniel snarled at his retreating back.

The mood in Rivendell was somber, like preparing a funeral procession. Very little was being said as the Elves gathered the few belongings that held the most meaning to them and made ready to travel either by foot or horse to the Grey Havens. They would take turns sharing the horses, as they had few to spare.

Arwen hugged Anniel one last time, and then left her to go make her farewells to her father. They'd spent the night together, a slow tender farewell between dear friends. She respected Arwen's decision to listen to her father and go, but she didn't agree with it. No surprise there.

The Elves staying on in Rinvedell were mainly horse soldiers responsible for the defense of Imladris or archers preparing to meet up with Lord Celeborn's own archers to go where they would be of most help, where Lord Elrond directed them, or a few, like Anniel, who were staying because they wanted to offer support.

Elrond was still avoiding her. Anniel wasn't any less angry at him, so not seeing him while she helped with the many preparations was probably for the best.

When the last in the line of Elves disappeared over the horizon, Anniel found herself face to face with Elrond. He could maintain a stoic facade better than anyone she'd ever known, but there was no calm to be found under the surface of their telepathic link.

"You are fortunate I didn't haul you over my knee and take a hand to your backside in front of one and all. For your impertinence, if not for raising your voice to publicly question my motives."

Anniel considered that, her blonde head tilting to the side. "I'm the only one who had the courage to say it to your face."

"On the contrary, Lindir also had some choice words to say about my remaining in Imladris for the duration. He was at least respectful in his descent."

"Lindir is a better man than I." Anniel started to step around him, but he caught her up and kissed her, roughly.

When the kiss ended, Elrond sighed, "No. You are not a man. Definitely a woman." He let her go. "I'll see you at dinner."

During Return Of The King...

"I never left her side," Anniel told Elrond. And it was the truth.

Day and night she kept her tireless vigil at Arwen's bedside while Elrond took the newly forged Andúril and rode out in search of Aragorn, son of Arathorn.

To fill the hours with something other than worry, Anniel sang. Every song in the journals she'd collected here and during her time in Lothlorien. Any song she thought might hold hope or healing.

She'd never told anyone, but once on the edge of the forest outside Eryn Lasgalen she'd come upon a wounded fawn, and Anniel had patiently coaxed it into eating some young shoots from her hand while she straightened the hind leg and wrapped it in strips of cloth torn from her skirt. She'd sang a plea to the spirits to heal it and not two minutes after the song ended the fawn bounded away, as if it's leg hadn't been broken.

The incident made her wonder if the Valar really existed, beyond tales told by the oldest of Elves, and if they did could they hear a plea from someone so far from where they dwelt.

Asking the Valar for help in saving Arwen, who was a mortal now, would probably seem blasphemous to most Elves, but Anniel didn't believe it was. Arwen was born an Elf, and though she'd chosen her mortal path to be with a Man she loved, her soul couldn't change, could it?

Anniel asked the Valar to help Arwen's elven spirit, her fëa, to stay strong within her mortal flesh until the Shadow was driven out of the land.

Elrond nodded, "I know." His arms tightened around her waist. "Thank you." His forehead rested on her shoulder and the Lord of Imladris started to weep. Deep sobs of pain and grief.

"She's not gone. Not yet. Arwen wants to live." The words were meant to offer comfort to Elrond, but they only brought more wracking sobs. Anniel turned in his embrace and pulled him to her, held him tight.

"Despair not, Elrond Half-elven. Hold to your faith and you shall see it rewarded in the fullness of time."

Elrond pulled back and looked at her, and she at him, because Anniel hadn't said the words, and neither had he. The statement seemed to come from all around them, and although low in pitch, the voice was distinctly female.

Nothing else was said by the mysterious voice, and in the days to come, dark days to be sure, the two of them clung to each other and to the hope in the mysterious promise.

Early one morning, something changed.

Elrond sent her to a cot in the next room to get some sleep, and Anniel awoke to a male voice, like the ringing of a bell, saying, "It is done."

Anniel threw back the blankets and padded into Arwen's room. Elrond was slumped over onto Arwen's lap, sound asleep, while Arwen was sitting upright, awake and stroking her father's hair, tenderly.

She turned and noticed Anniel in the doorway. "Did you hear someone say something, too?"

Anniel stumbled over to the bed, and knelt down beside her lover to take Arwen's hand. "I heard a voice say, 'It is done.' Arwen, how long have you been awake? You've not stirred in nearly a fortnight..."

"I heard the voice in my dream and woke up." Arwen stared down at the pale, gaunt face of her father. "I don't think I've ever seen Ada look more tired. He looks sick."

Anniel nodded, "Sick with worry. We've both spent days and nights at your side." She grinned. "We had a terribly fierce row last night and he had the nerve to send me to bed like a willful child. I wanted to kick his shin, but I moved to the cot in the next room and I did manage a few hours of sleep."

Arwen laughed.

Her laughter made her father wake. His eyes half closed, he sat up and stared at her in disbelief. "Arwen?"

"Yes, Ada."

Elrond tugged his daughter into a tight embrace, sobbing with relief.

Anniel stood and slipped from the room to see about having food made and baths drawn while father and daughter spent some time alone.

In the kitchen, Anniel found Lord Elrond's second in command, another very old Elf and dear friend of the Lord of Imladris, Glorfindel, and asked him, "Are the Valar real?"

He blinked at her, clearly startled by the question, then recovered himself enough to rumble, "Goodness, you are a child. Where have you been living that you don't believe in the Valar, under a mountain? Of course, they are real." He looked at the ceiling above her head. "I think they'd be offended at the very suggestion... What is your King teaching those poor wood-elves? Nothing of any use, obviously."

With one last disapproving huff, he started off in the direction of Arwen's room with two trays, one for Lord Elrond and a much lighter one for Arwen.

To Anniel, he called over his shoulder, "I had your tray taken to your cottage, and not Lord Elrond's bedchamber, in the hope you will get some decent sleep after your meal." To himself, the Elf muttered, "I'm not blind to the comings and goings around here, and I have excellent hearing."

Anniel's cheeks burned.

Since the Fellowship set off for Mordor with the One Ring, Elrond had stopped hiding their sleeping arrangements from the people closest to him. Anniel didn't know what exactly changed in their relationship, or why, but she hadn't minded. She didn't know if Arwen knew about them or not, yet. Or if Elrond would choose to tell her and the twins.

Eventually, they would figure it out and Anniel hoped Arwen would be pleased and not appalled.

A warm body slid under the blankets and fitted itself to hers, Anniel sighed groggily, "Elrond?"

"Yes, love."

A shadow crossed the floor from around the far side of the bed and brushed his thigh. Automatically, his hand went to the cat's soft, thick fur. "I've got her now, my friend. Go get yourself a mouse or two."

She snuggled back against him, fitting their bodies even more tightly. His arms tightened around her and made her sigh, "Better."

After a moment, he whispered against her cheek, "You aren't still angry with me?"

"No."

"When you weren't in my bed, I wanted to come and check on you, and tell you I'm sorry."

Anniel brought his hand up to her lips and kissed it. "Glorfindel sent my breakfast here. He doesn't seem to think we do any sleeping in your bed. And that we make love too loudly."

"He said that to you? I'll speak to him," Elrond promised.

"Good." To herself, she said, "This place is still full of bossy Elves."

Elrond rumbled, "You usually like it when I'm bossy."

"You, yes. Glorfindel, no."

"If you stand up to those bossy Elves, you might just find they back down easily enough. You have them completely besotted."

Anniel sighed, "Sleep now."

"Yes."


	5. Chapter 5

After Return Of The King...

"I have a favor to ask of you, Anniel."

Anniel looked up from her writing, "I am at your service, as always, my Lady."

"You aren't a servant or a companion, you are my friend," Arwen scolded her. "We have been more than friends at Midsummer, and you know it." She took her hand. "I want you to sing for me, at my wedding."

Anniel's jaw dropped. When she could, she said, "I don't know that I deserve such a great honor."

Arwen smiled at her young friend, "You are forever too modest. Anniel, you saved my life. Don't think I don't know it, or will ever forget it."

"I didn't do anything." But even as she said it, the words felt false. Something had happened, it just wasn't something Anniel understood or could explain. "It wasn't my voice that spoke."

Arwen smiled. "No, I know that. I still have no idea who spoke, but I do know what I saw."

"Saw? What did you see?"

"I was at the gates of a great Hall. There was a guard at the gate, and I thought it was my father as he shut the gate before me. I called to him, "Father!" He smiled at me and it was then that I could see the differences, it wasn't Ada."

Anniel's mind flashed back to her own experience at a gate. "A huge black iron gate with a complicated symbol worked into it?"

"Yes!" Arwen gasped. "You've seen it, too?! How? When?"

"When I was near death in Lothlorien, before I came to Rivendell."

"The man spoke to me. He said he was not my father, but my uncle, Elros, father's twin brother. Anniel, they were identical, even more so than Elladan and Elrohir. I told him as much. He laughed and said my brothers favored their mother with pretty faces he and my father didn't get."

Both women laughed at that.

"I asked him why he locked me out. He said my death at this time would break his brother, and neither he nor Mandos would do such a thing to Elrond if it could be helped. Then, he showed me my body, and you were kneeling beside me, singing a plea to the Valar. Uncle said you are very clever and found just the right song to close the gate before me. To save me."

Anniel gasped. "Arwen, I don't know what to say."

Arwen hugged her hard. "I owe you."

"Did you tell your father what you saw?"

Arwen shook her head, "There hasn't really been a good time, and I think it might hurt him to talk about his brother."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Arwen asked, half amused and half concerned. "You don't have to. I can find another way. There must be servants' passages in the palace I can use to get into the Royal Suite. I just haven't been here long enough to explore and find them, or bribe someone to tell me."

Anniel gave the other woman a considering look. "It's alright, I want to do this. And not just to get around them meddling in your affairs. I've got something to prove to myself as well tonight."

At Arwen's amusement, she added, "I'm no seductress. I don't even know what to say."

The dark haired woman rolled her eyes, "They are males. You are a very attractive female. You don't have to say anything. All it will take to have my brothers following you wherever you lead is to show them what they are being offered."

"How?"

"Simple." Instead of explaining, Arwen demonstrated by sliding her own dress off her shoulders and letting it pool on the polished stone floor around her bare feet. There was nothing under the dress but her flawless skin.

At Anniel's surprise, she said, "My grandmother taught me many things about men, this particular lesson was the night before my first Midsummer." She gathered her dress up and slipped back into it.

Anniel had to drag her eyes away from the too familiar curves of Arwen's body, and she hoped, maybe, there would be time for them to play one last time before the wedding. She admired Arwen's comfort with her appeal to men and women alike, but when Anniel imagined the twins responding to her attempting to imitate Arwen, it just made her courage fly away. "This is probably a bad idea."

"It will work. Trust me," Arwen insisted.

When Anniel didn't move, Arwen came to stand behind her and eased her dress down until Anniel's breasts were exposed to the cool air of the room. "There, that's better," she nodded approvingly, as the cold puckered Anniel's nipples.

"Another trick from Lady Galadriel?"

Her friend grinned. "Just because she is one of the oldest of the Eldar, don't let her fool you into thinking she doesn't like to have all eyes on her. She can be quite vain." Arwen cupped her from behind, gently kneading the plump flesh. "You have perfect breasts. I envy you for them," she sighed. "I was not gifted with such bounty, and I doubt even having a child will help me less resemble an adolescent boy."

Anniel disagreed. "Only a fool would mistake you for anything but a woman! I bet Aragorn has never had any complaints about your breasts."

"I knew there was a reason you are my friend," Arwen chuckled. "I am not without my own vanity, and you do know how to make me feel better about myself."

"You are perfect exactly as you are, my Lady."

Arwen's response was to pull her into her arms and kiss her hard on the mouth. "Thank you, meldë. Now, go make my father and brothers rue the day they thought they could decide what bed a woman should or shouldn't sleep in."

"Did you enjoy yourself last night, Anniel?"

Lord Elrond was standing between her and the door leading off this particular balcony. No doubt he'd bided his time, watching her but not approaching, until she backed herself into a corner where they could talk privately. Her eyes never his face. Young, but not easily intimidated, Anniel greeted his appearance with a placid smile.

Growing up in the court of King Thranduil meant knowing how to face the consequences of your actions without flinching or appearing to feel guilty. Considering how much trouble she'd always seemed to find herself in, this particular skill was finely honed.

And as to whether she'd enjoyed the sex with Elladan and Elrohir... "Yes, I suppose I did. " It was a simple answer and directly on the point. "I've always wondered if I was missing out by turning down their invitations at Midsummer."

"And why did you turn them down for so long? I hope it wasn't because of me."

Her smile widened and she lower her eyes, "No. It wasn't that, and I can only hope I gave them as much pleasure as I received. Your handsome twins intimidate me, they have been very persistent. I don't spend much time with them outside yours or Arwen's company. And the idea of bedding the two at once? That tipped the scales from intimidating to terrifying."

"You've never mentioned feeling intimidated before."

Her cheeks flamed, and while she hadn't been trying to, she'd stirred up his protectiveness. "It isn't something I willingly admit to anyone, especially not you."

"They would never hurt you."

Of course they wouldn't hurt her, but even the most irrational fears could be powerful. She turned her back to him, looking out over the land that stretched far below Minas Tirith just starting to bloom from the recent thaw. Cold didn't bother Elves unless the cold was on the inside, like a protective numbness around her heart.

Only once before in their ten year relationship had Anniel had reason to openly oppose Elrond. He was a fair minded person, someone long used to negotiation and diplomacy. But when it came to his daughter, he was a bit of tyrant.

Anniel had plenty of experience with tyrants.

Arwen was the first friend she'd made in Imladris, not counting Elrond, and they'd only grown closer over the years. To see her gentle hearted Arwen being kept from the arms of her beloved when it was so clear they belonged together and had earned the right...

Warm fingers stroked the skin where her dress bared most of her neck and shoulders to the cool spring breeze and the late afteroon sun. His breath was hot against her ear, "Do you want my love, Anniel?" He drew the golden hair away from her neck, replacing it with the lightest brush of his lips, "You won my heart long ago."

"I know." The response came so easily. He'd been solicitous of her from her earliest days in his city, and she'd taken to Elrond's attention the way a seedling reaches for sunlight.

Mirkwood had never held enough sunlight, real or otherwise for Anniel. Then, Tauriel died and she had nobody to champion her need for space to grow or defend her when her rebellious nature drew the wrath of their beautiful, and at times terrible, King Thranduil.

"It was pleasurable, sex with the twins, but the emotional connection was missing." Sex was just pleasant sensations without caring for your partners. Playful fondness wasn't the same as lovemaking. "You don't have to worry I prefer them to you."

Elrond sighed against her shoulder. "It would be an untruth to say I wasn't worried. They are nearer to your youth and I've tried to keep the burdens they bear lighter than the ones I shouldered, but neither has found someone to share their life with, and if it were you..."

"We have discussed the difference in our ages many times and you know I've never seen it as an obstacle to be overcome." Anniel snuggled back against him, letting his arms tighten around her. "I'd rather you be upset I might find them to be better lovers than you," she teased him.

Lips brushed the sensitive shell of her ear. "I'll never be angry over you seeking pleasure. You need to explore desire, with or without me. I'd like to think I am doing well in guiding you, but some subjects are best learned on your own." Elrond was responsible for most of her sexual education, though they both enjoyed the lessons.

Her chest hurt, Elrond was always too kind, too understanding, putting her needs before his. And yet, in this case, a part of her had wanted to punish him for interfering with Arwen and Aragorn. She admitted as much. And braced for the explosion of temper she expected from Thranduil...

Instead, Elrond laughed, "Peace, love. I will leave Arwen and her King be. My lesson is well learnt. You and Arwen make fearsome allies, believe me. I'd rather face a host of Orcs than your combined might."

His hands gripped her shoulders and tugged her around to face him. "I've learned something else from this, Anniel. I thought myself as cold and hard as stone inside, but it seems I've relearned how to feel. The fault is yours entirely, do not think I take your working this dark magic on me lightly."

Her eyes welled with tears, and for a moment she couldn't draw breath... when she did it was a shaky sob.

The blood drained from his face. "Anniel. Anniel, it was a jest." She found herself engulfed in his embrace, crushed against the fine brocade cloth of his coat. "Don't cry, love," he pleaded.

She couldn't help it. There was just too much emotion to hold out against the weight of it. His lips planted gentle kisses on her wet cheeks, and he murmured comforting things while she clung to him.

"I love you," she whispered.

"You don't know how relieved, and joyous, it makes me to hear you say so." He stroked her cheek tenderly. "Is there a reason you use Quenya when you get particularly emotional? This isn't the first time I've noticed it."

Anniel laid her head on his shoulder. "It was the first language my parents taught me. Sometimes, it gives me comfort, because the phrases I remember hearing, like 'I love you' were in Quenya." There was precious little she remembered of before she'd been orphaned and ward of the King with the others during and after the dark times.

"I don't think I've ever heard you willingly speak of your life at Court before. Each time I've asked, you pull away and change the subject. Is it painful for you to speak of? I've always wanted to know more about your life before you came to me, about your family."

There was a stone bench behind them, now in shade, and Anniel led him to it because it was a long story to tell and her legs felt unsteady. He sat and gathered her onto his lap. She let her head rest against his chest and told him of the harshest realities of life in the court of Thranduil while she listened to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart.

When she was finished, he said, "Galadriel saved your life. And if Legolas hadn't taken you from Eryn Lasgalen, I would have wondered on in darkness, never having met you, and never knowing how much I needed you. I believe I owe them a debt of gratitude I may never be able to repay."

For a long moment, he said nothing, as if debabting within himself, and then he said, "Thranduil sent me a letter a few weeks before we came to Minas Tirith asking after you, specifically, how you were fairing among my Elves, and when you planned to return home."

A shudder wracked her body, "Never."

"The evil has been driven out once and for all and the forests may yet heal. You could make a short visit, perhaps to say your goodbyes..."

Anniel shook her head, "There is no one who loves me in Mirkwood, anymore." Tauriel had been the only true friend she'd had. Legolas was her Prince first, and her cousin second, and Thranduil never let them spend too much time together lest she forget that.

Elrond grunted at that, "I know you and I don't believe that. You've been residing in Imladris for ten years and the people absolutely adore you. Lindir and Haldir got to talking over too much wine and approached me to ask permission to take you to the Grey Havens whether you consented to the trip or not."

"They didn't!" Anniel gasped.

"I'm afraid they did, and I told them in no uncertain terms I would not force you to leave Middle Earth until you were ready." There was a sadness in his voice, because now Haldir was dead and Lindir was in Valinor and she knew he missed them both.

She missed them, too.

Elrond kissed her cheek. "While we are making our confessions, I admit I was relieved you decided to stay, and my motives were purely selfish."

The confession was not a surprise. Anniel knew. How could she not? After their initial rift was mended, they clung to each other, as the despair of Middle Earth falling to Sauron grew with each passing day. Without saying a word, they had agreed to face whatever came together.

For some reason, Anniel suspected Elrond was secretly doing something to her, she wasn't as sick as she should have been. And definitely not as sick as Arwen, though she knew Elrond did anything he could think of to keep his daughter alive.

Mostly soothed now, and feeling lighter from telling someone her story, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, my Lord Elrond, for giving me a place to call home."

"If you start to cry, again, I vow I'll haul your skirts up and not stop pleasuring you until your screams bring half the keep of Minas Tirith running to your aid."

"If there are more tears, they are not of sadness or loneliness any longer," she admitted, "because I've found you."

Elrond stroked her cheek, kissed her. "I'm going to make you my wife, but I will allow you to choose if it is here or years from now in Valinor when the deed is done."

"Kind of you to give me a choice." She nipped playfully at his lower lip. "I think I would like to make you chase me for a while yet." They kissed and touched and very likely scandalized anyone unlucky enough to wander out onto the balcony, but Anniel didn't care.

"I'm good at giving chase. And even better after I've caught my prize."

Anniel grinned, "I know. And you are fortunate I enjoy being caught."

"Anniel! The King is here."

Anniel looked up from her notes and squinted at her companion. "The King lives here, this is the Royal Palace, after all."

"King Thranduil is in Minas Tirith. He's come for the wedding tomorrow."

The quill slipped from her trembling fingers and made a splotch of black ink all over her freshly written words. With more calm than she felt, Anniel pulled the chair back and stood up, then walked to the wash basin and scrubbed the ink from her hands.

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

The maiden was a dear friend and had travelled with her since Caras Galadhon. Lady Galadriel herself assigned her as a companion to Anniel, and now she followed the wood-elf out of love and devotion, their friendship. She was the only one, other than Elrond, who knew how unhappy Thranduil made life for her in Mirkwood.

Anniel looked at her in the mirror. "I suppose this means we'll have to prepare my second best dress for dinner." When the maid scowled at her, she sighed, "what do you want me to say? Pack my bags, I will leave at first light for Imladris and hope he doesn't hunt me down and drag me back to Mirkwood?" She couldn't leave, not now. "I promised Arwen I would do the song for her, and I won't disappoint her."

"Well, if it isn't my lost sheep," Thranduil said, looking her over from the top of her head to the tips of her slippers.

"My King..." Anniel bowed deeply to him.

"Am I your King, Anniel?" His voice was heavy with censure. "If I were still your King, you would answer the letters I've sent you."

Anniel looked up into his coldly beautiful face, not believing him. The only letter she knew of was the one Elrond told her of. There had been others? "My Lord, I know of only one letter, and it was only received recently."

Thranduil must have seen the truth of it in her confused expression. "I sent four letters to Caras Galadhon in the last four years. I heard you travelled recently to Imladris, so the last was delivered to Lord Elrond of Rivendell."

Anniel blanched. "I've lived for years in Imladris."

"And why is it you didn't inform your King you planned on wandering Middle Earth once your illness was cured?"

There were a hundred different reasons she'd not told the King she was leaving Caras Galadhon, but none were something she had the courage to say to his face.

"I also wonder why Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel didn't mention you were no longer their guest until just this year."

Because they care about me, Anniel thought, sourly. "I'm truly sorry, my King. When Lord Elrond told me of your letter, I started a reply, but assisting Arwen with the wedding preparations has been keeping me occupied."

"We will speak again later, Anniel. Do I need to remind you to whom your loyalty lies?"

"No, my lord."

Thranduil didn't look appeased in the least, "I do hope so, for your sake."

The threat in his tone made the blood run cold in her veins. What he said next, made her feel the burn of bile in her throat. "It is time you returned home."


	6. Chapter 6

"I would like to speak with the King, if he'll receive me," Anniel told the guard at the door to Thranduil's guest suite.

The Royal guard was someone Anniel had known all her life, of course, and he gave her a sympathetic smile before bowing and stepping back to allow her to enter. In a lowered voice, he said, "Mind your tongue, Anniel, our Lord is not in the best of moods."

Such a warning was unnecessary. Anniel was in serious trouble, and everyone knew it, but she needed to tell Thranduil the truth. She had no expectation of mercy, as none had ever been given before.

Whatever punishment he devised, the wood-elf would accept it, and at least the matter would be settled before she next saw Lord Elrond.

The sick feeling in her stomach grew as she got closer to the second chamber door, thinking about Elrond made it worse. Her palms were damp and she wiped them on her skirts before knocking lightly on the door frame.

King Thranduil sat behind a large, elaborately carved desk which took up most of his sitting room. "Anniel. Good. I was just about to send Legolas to fetch you."

Anniel stopped a short distance from the desk and studied rug under her slippers.

"You appear healthier than when you left Eryn Lasgalen. Are you well, Anniel?" As he spoke, he glanced up at her, and then returned to writing something on a parchment.

Anniel swallowed hard, nodding, "Yes, my Lord. I am much improved."

"I'm please to hear it. And you have been treated well by the Lords and Ladies who've hosted you?" His attempts at small talk were probably meant to convey interest, but his tone was bland and gave away nothing of his thoughts.

Before she had a chance to lose her nerve, Anniel blurted out, "There are things I must tell you, my Lord."

Thranduil lifted his head, pinning her with an icy stare for the rudeness of her interruption. "Are there, really? What sort of things?" He slid the massive chair back and stood up to his full height. Circling the desk until it was no longer a barrier them, he crossed his arms over his lean chest, deceptively casual.

Anniel opened her mouth to confess everything, but Thranduil spoke first, "Let me guess. You've fallen madly in love with Elrond Half-elven and intend to become his wife and follow him into the West."

How could the King know? He only just arrived. Her frantic heart pounded in her ears.

The King smiled at her stunned expression, and explained, "You aren't my first visitor today. Your lover was here, not an hour ago, seeking my blessing to make you his wife."

Relief washed over Anniel like an ocean's tidal wave. Of course, Elrond would want to speak to Thranduil himself. Everything was going to be set right, as Lord of Imladris, her lover was very persuasive. He would fix the mess she made.

"I cannot give my blessing. The problem I see with such a union is Lord Elrond has a wife, already."

Anniel blinked.

"You are good friends with his daughter, Arwen, are you not? She's asked for you specifically of all her friends to sing at her wedding and perform blessings on her and her groom. Surly you know her mother isn't dead, only gone from Middle Earth to the Undying Lands."

Of course, she knew about Celebrian, but Elrond never spoke of her, just as she found it difficult speaking of life in Mirkwood. Both were subjects avoided if possible out of respect for the pain they could still stir.

Thranduil frowned, dark brows drawing together. "I have to wonder what will become of Lord Elrond's new young wife when his true wife, his soul's mate, meets him at the docks and takes him to the home she has kept these many centuries for him in Valinor? And what would become of you should such a reunion come to pass?"

The possibility of Elrond abandoning her to return to Celebrian frankly never occurred to Anniel, and the relief of just a few moments ago was now a certainty so agonizing in it's intensity it nearly dropped her to her knees.

It felt like Thranduil's logical, bland words cut her heart out. Maybe it would be better if it had. Living with this sick, horrible pain would be impossible.

"I am your King, Anniel. It is time for you to return to Eryn Lasgalen, and take your place as a Lady of my Court."

Anniel could barely register Thranduil speaking, as every breath was an effort not to sob.

To herself, more than him, she whimpered, "It was madness to think you would ever give your blessing, or ever let me know a moment's happiness." She pleaded with him with her eyes and every fiber of her being. "All I ever wanted growing up was a place at Court, a purpose, to be useful in some way."

"And, now, you shall have it. You have trained for Court all your life, and earned it. As for a husband…"

"It's too late, now! I don't to host parties and be a pretty bauble given away as a sign of your favor. I never wanted that. I only ever wanted you to see Anniel when you looked at me, and not the Queen you lost, whom everyone says I resemble." Her voice raised to a shout. "Why would you want me back in Eryn Lasgalen? You can't even bear to look at me!"

Once she lanced the wound that had been festering so long, Anniel couldn't stop the poison from leeching out. She stood defiantly before the King, hands on hips and stated, "I won't take any other as my husband. I won't." Furious tears leaked from her under her closed eyelids and ran down her cheeks.

Thranduil's hand cupped her chin, raising her eyes up to his face. "You don't just look like my Queen... I've always believed Ilúvatar could be merciful. When I looked into your eyes, I could see her soul returned to me in you." Then, he kissed her.

Anniel gasped, eyes widening in horror. "No... This is some sort of a joke. You've always despised me. As long as I can remember, I've tried to get you to notice me. Begged for the tiniest scrap of your favor. I gladly accepted punishments because, for a minute or two, I wasn't invisible or beneath your notice." Each sentence she spoke was punctuated by a sob so wretched Anniel wanted to be struck dead rather than feel the building humiliation.

His hand had left her chin, jerked back as if touching her burned him. Or she was too pitiful for even that small skin contact.

Was he really saying he loved her all this time? It wasn't like any twisted facsimile of love she'd ever know, if that was truly the case. She might have welcomed his love, once. But now, Anniel just wanted to escape from Thranduil, Elrond and his perfect first wife, and every aspect of her very cruel existence.

Why had Tauriel barred to gate before her? Was she even so pitiful Mandos refused her admittance to his great Halls? Everyone who truly loved her was there, taken from her.

Everything was moving in slow motion, time reduced to each heartbeat throbbing in her head. A breeze from a window ruffled her hair, and she turned from the King and collapsed on the bench before the window. Cool air on her face chilled her tears.

The valley below seemed to stretch to the horizon, and there was no conscious decision to move through the opening, one moment she was kneeling on the cushion and the next she was being hauled back into the room.

Thranduil dragged her out of the window and shook her. He bellowed, "Don't you dare!"

The Woodland King was terrifying when he was angry, but it was an icy anger. This was something else, molten fury. It colored his cheeks pink, his eyes glittered hotly and it made Anniel afraid he was capable of harming her.

Then, something in him changed. The painful grip on her upper arms stopped and she was being pulled against his chest, held not in a tight crushing embrace, but rather craddled gently.

The simple contact of a hug undid her, burst every dam holding back four centuries of pent up misery few knew she even carried. Hands caressed her back in soothing circles, stroked her hair. The murmured comfort words, the soothing sounds...

"I would never do you harm, Anniel. Please, believe that." He added, "I've only ever wanted to protect you. But the biggest threat to you has always been myself. I didn't see in shielding you from my desire, trying to raise you to an age when my attentions would be appropriate and not a violation of your trust in me as your guardian, I've caused you pain."

Anniel had never seen King Thranduil cry.

On any other day, she would have said Thranduil wasn't capable of producing tears, but he was crying, now. Not heartbroken sobs, the way she sobbed, his tears were silently running down his cheeks and the icy blue of his eyes was bloodshot.

They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment before he huffed a breath and said, "You would choose death rather than return to your home, and how can I blame you? I behaved like a monster and never thought it necessary explain why it was in your best interest to stay as far away from me as possible."

Thranduil hesitated, then confessed, "Being with you made my need for you almost uncontrollable. I'm very old, half mad and the hope of you someday returning my love..."

Anniel's eyes widened in surprise at his casual mention of love. She didn't believe him, couldn't believe him. He had to be lying. This was a ploy to get her to return to her cage like a good little girl. Nothing would be changed by this.

Thranduil took her hands in his and kissed her knuckles. "My beloved is returned to me only to be lost to another old, lonely Elf. So be it. You have my blessing to marry Lord Elrond and to sail with him to the Undying Lands. He is a better match for you. You are too good, gentle and sweet, for one such as I've become."

Anniel heard his praise for the first time and felt lightheaded, disconnected.

"I wish you'd come to me a hundred years ago, raged at your foul tempered King for the mistreatments I've heaped upon you, rather than bearing them and suffering in silence." He caressed her cheek tenderly. "Things would have changed. I would have changed, for you. For a chance at winning your heart..."

Anniel didn't know what to say, and she told him so.

"There is nothing more you need to say. I'm a jealous old fool, and now I'll have to carry the knowledge of what I've done to you with me for all of time. I'm am sorry, sweet Anniel that I wasn't a good guardian to you. You deserve so much better than I." He kissed her lips very tenderly, a feather's caress. "Go, now. Tell Elrond I've changed my mind. Kings do, once in a great while, when they are shown to be wrong."

The rest of the walk back to her rooms was a blur, and Anniel froze when she entered her bedroom and found Elrond sitting on the edge of her bed, waiting patiently for her.

"Legolas said you were speaking with Thranduil, so I figured I would wait in here in case I need to help you pack for a quick escape."

If it was meant to be a joke, it failed miserably. "I can't marry you, my Lord."

"What?" Elrond demanded. "You don't need Thranduil's blessing to marry me. You are old enough to make the decision for yourself."

Anniel sighed, not meeting his eyes. "I have his blessing to marry you. Thranduil changed his mind. It changes nothing. I still can't marry you."

"Why, not? We make each other happy. I know you're happy. You glow with it." He stood before her, eyes searching her tearstained face. "What did he say to you? What did he tell you to make you decide we are not meant to be together?"

Anniel was starting to feel shaky, so she pulled the chair out from the small writing desk and sat down before her legs decided to give out.

Elrond crossed the distance between them and sank to his knees before her. He took her hands in his. "Anniel, I love you. I'm hollow without you in my life."

Thanks to Thranduil's cruel, jealous comments about Elrond's wife, where Anniel wouldn't have doubted, now she felt nothing but doubt. How could her ten year relationship with Elrond compare to the wife who'd lived with him for over a thousand years and bore his children.

"He said something... tell me. Give me a chance to allay your fears." There was pain in his expression and concern. "You've been crying. If he hurt you..."

"Thranduil said he loves me. He's always loved me, but he wanted to stay as far away from me as possible, until I was old enough." T

he look of shock on his face was almost comical. "The last ten years have been good for me. You've helped me mature. I don't know if I will return to Mirkwood when I leave here, I miss Lady Galadriel, and I want spend some time with her before she leaves for Valinor." Anniel choked on a sob, "I'm sure she's planning to leave as soon as possible, she must be anxious to see Celebrian, again. I'm sure you are, too."

The mention of Lady Galadriel's daughter, Elrond's wife, was like Anniel slapped him in the face. The pain was in his eyes, and then a darker look of anger and understanding. "That bastard. I should have known he'd aim his dagger right for your heart and mine."

"I can't be your wife, my Lord, for you already have a wife," Anniel said, quietly. "I could be your lover, maybe still, but there is no way to deny how things must be once we reach Valinor."

Her casual acceptance fueled his anger. "You are more than just a lover, Anniel," he snapped at her. He stood and started pacing, as she knew he did when he had a problem to solve in his head. "How can you not know this to be true?"

"It's time for me to get dressed to go to dinner."

"Am I being dismissed?" he asked, incredulous. "This conversation is very far from over."

Anniel put a hand on his arm, "I'm so very tired. It's been a difficult afternoon. I'll see you at dinner, I just need some time alone to... compose myself. Please."

Elrond caressed her cheek and then he kissed her, hard and possessive. "I'm not letting you go." With that, he turned and left.

Legolas appeared at her door as Anniel and the maid Arwen lent her were tying up the last golden braid with emerald colored ribbons matched to the velvet of her dress and her eyes. He knocked once and then crossed the room to stand behind her chair.

His fingertip teased one of the curls that was left artfully loose to hang nearly to her waist. "Your hair is exactly the same shade as the gold of the One Ring, did I ever tell you that?"

"No."

"It is." He lifted the curl and wrapped it around his finger. "See. Gold. I'm going to stand at your shoulder day and night when the Dwarves get here. You know how they are with gold. And they're notorious for stealing things. If they thought they could get away with it, I bet you'd find yourself in a sack bound for Erebor after the wedding."

Anniel met his eyes in the mirror when she stated, "Better Erebor than Eryn Lasgalen."

"Anniel." His hurt expression made her regret the harsh words. "Mirkwood is your home."

"You've been away as long as I have, cousin. Are you going back? Or will you admit you favor freedom, as I do?"

Legolas deflected the question with one of his own, "It's not going to matter, is it? I would think you'll be on a ship bound for the Undying Lands before long."

Anniel winced. "I'm hungry, cousin. Will you escort me to dinner?"

"Of course, my Lady. Every man in the Hall will be as green as your dress with envy. Except, perhaps, King Elessar. We've always had the best taste in Ladies."

Elrond didn't care who noticed him staring at Anniel across the table. She looked so sad, like her very soul had been torn into pieces and it was all he could do not to throw himself across the heavily laden table at Thranduil's throat.

How dare he come here and hurt Anniel and expect her to meekly follow him back to Mirkwood after all he'd put her through. The urge to inflict violence on the other Elf consumed him, when none had turned his blade on another since the forth and final kinslaying in the First Age.

Maybe Ilúvatar would forgive him this one time. The Valar had to know Thranduil deserved it.

After the meal, the host and a reduced company of mostly Eldar wedding guests moved up to the courtyard where the Tree was blooming. It was past sunset and the stars were shining brightly. Especially bright was Eärendil, and it earned the star a scowl from Elrond. "A few weeks into this age of peace and I want to put my sword through someone, father. Aren't you filled with pride?"

"Please don't," Legolas said, quietly coming to stand beside him at the railing. "We had this conversation once before. My feelings on becoming King of Mirkwood have not changed."

Elrond seethed, "He is hurting the woman I love."

"Look at him, my Lord Elrond, really look at my father. He is as undone by her misery tonight as you are. Father didn't mean to break her spirit. In his own way, my father loves her." Legolas' lips compressed into a thin line. "How do we help her?"

The Elf-lord sighed, "I wish I knew."


	7. Chapter 7

"Anniel, what is this I am hearing about you writing a song?" Thranduil asked her.

"It is something I have been researching for years, my King." Thranduil wasn't trying to cause her distress, Anniel knew. His tone of voice and body language were that of a proud parent, a new experience for her. Maybe, the King had meant what he said about the feelings for her and how things might have been. "I would like very much to hear it," Thranduil said, conversationally. Not a command as her King, but a request, like a friend would make.

Anniel opened her mouth to explain it wasn't finished, but King Elessar spoke first, "Arwen told me your party stopped at Helm's Deep on the way to Minas Tirith and you sang a beautiful lament for the Elves and Men who were lost. I would be interested in hearing a song you wrote, as well."

Anniel found herself backed into a corner, now by two Kings, and knew to refuse them would be a grave insult, but she explained, "I've never felt like it was right... but I will sing what I have composed." It took effort to shut out the murmurs and the feel of so many expectant eyes upon her and focus on the voice in her heart.

Closing her eyes, Anniel offered her plea to whomever might hear her and care about the weary, grief burdened Elves who remained in Middle Earth.

When last notes of the song trailed off, Anniel opened her eyes. Not a single Elf was not moved to tears, even Thranduil and Elrond. Maybe especially those two. No word was spoken, the only sounds were the wind and quiet sobs. Most noticeably Arwen's.

"I don't know if I've ever heard a Elvish song more beautiful or more heartbreaking," a deep, male voice said.

Anniel looked up into the face of a very tall stranger, with straight black hair in a long braid hanging over his shoulder and large dark eyes, which regarded her solemnly.

In the scant torchlight, there was no way to tell if he was a Man or an Elf or something else entirely. His face was all hard lines and sharp angles, like he could smile and still be utterly terrifying if he wanted to be. Or maybe the smile was meant to terrify and not comfort.

One thing she was certain of... he hadn't been standing there when Anniel started the song.

Glancing behind her, everyone was oddly frozen in place, statues made of flesh, except the two of them. "I've heard your voice before," she said, quietly puzzling him out.

"You have, indeed, little one."

"I've never seen you before. I'm sure I would remember your face."

The man smiled a patient smile. "It has been quite some time since a child of the First Ones had the courage to call upon on me, and your lovely song should not be left without a response."

"It wasn't finished," Anniel complained.

The man threw back his head and laughed, deep and booming, painfully loud in the silence that surrounded them. "You have even more doubts for me to address? I have only one heart for you to break, girl, and you accomplished it well enough. Even the heart of Manwë was moved. He gave his blessing for us to come and speak with you."

As he said the word us, a dark haired woman appeared out of mist beside him.

Anniel gathered her courage and asked, "You are of the Valar?"

"I am Mandos, this is Estë, my sister. You have heard our names in conversation and stories, but your heart is even now filled with doubt of our existence."

Anniel sighed, "I'm sorry."

"No fault of yours, and if there is blame, it falls on those much older than you for not sharing enough of their knowledge of the Valar with you." He was silent for a full minute, and then he said, "Answer me something, young Anniel. What would you have from us this night?"

Anniel frowned, thinking. "I don't know. I didn't think I would get an answer..."

"Why?" Mandos questioned her.

"Beacuse we are too far away. Or maybe..." She let the thought trail off unfinished.

"Maybe..." Estë coaxed her. "Finish your thought, please."

Anniel didn't want to, but in the end, she admitted, "Maybe the Valar the older Eldar speak of don't care, because we doomed ourselves long ago."

Mandos sighed, heavily. "Until the Ring was destroyed, we were forbidden to interfere beyond sending a few emissaries, the ones you know as Wizards like Gandalf the White, to point the way. Our silence doesn't mean we do not see the mess Middle Earth has fallen into. I think it is more fair to say the Elves of Middle Earth have turned away from the Valar, if you want the truth of it."

"I don't understand."

"And that is the problem, but one that, again, is not your fault. Do you know how many songs have been offered up to me in the last five hundred years from your kindred in Middle Earth? Take a guess."

"A hundred?"

"No. Try again."

"Ten."

"One. Yours."

Anniel didn't know what to say. The songs were old and dusty in the books and the libraries saw few Elves seeking the old ways as she did.

"I find it deeply ironic the plea to return the lost souls I've collected in my Halls comes from the very last innocent soul Eru placed in Middle Earth. Yes, you, child. No other babies were born to the Elves of this land after your birth."

It was Anniel's turn now to ask, "Why?"

"I asked a very similar question of Eru. He told me to be patient, the melody of the First Ones and their dominion over Middle Earth is ended. Time runs down for the Eldar here. The battered, exhausted survivors are all being called home, to find healing and renewal before a new verse in Eru's song of the First Ones begins."

Anniel nodded, "Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel both feel something pulling at them to leave. They've sent nearly everyone away."

"Yes," Mandos said. "The feeling is strongest for those two, I imagine, they who have the sight and were born across the sea."

King Thranduil was frozen to Anniel's right, and she gestured to him, "The King won't go, and he's never allowed any Silvan elves to journey to the Grey Havens."

Mandos laughed, and it surprised her. "More's the pity, too. The wood-elves will be welcomed, respected and loved as never before. As for your King, all that is needed is the right motivation, and the promise of a part in the melody in Eru's song for Thranduil to remember how to dance."

Anniel caressed Elrond's cheek. "I don't like seeing him like this." By this, she meant unresponsive, as if he were carved of warm stone.

"We are outside the flow of time. Elrond is not being harmed, and not aware anything unusual is happening. But I think if I let these two," Mandos nodded to King Thranduil and Lord Elrond, "go, they would draw their blades as soon as breathe tonight. Blood would be shed."

This Anniel knew. "Please, don't let them hurt each other over me."

Mandos nodded, grimly. "Your King has never played nicely with others. He can't even play nicely with orphaned little girls. Pity him, but do not let his cruelty linger in your heart. The problem is within him and you have already set him on a better path this day." He put a hand on Elrond's shoulder and her lover was suddenly aware of them.

Mandos repeated the gesture with Thranduil with the same result.

"I've never been one to shy away from a challenge, and I have no desire to welcome either of these fierce warriors into my Halls. Let us see this dispute resolved before it comes to that."

The two Elves looked at her first, and then their attention turned to Mandos and his sister. It was strange to Anniel because they both recognized Mandos immediately and dropped to one knee before him.

"Rise, son of Oropher and son of Eärendil, I mean you no harm." Mandos waited for them to return to their feet before he added, "Which is more than can be said about your intentions toward each other. Coveting another's chosen mate and desiring to slay your Elvish brethren... Have you learned nothing in the passing of so many centuries away from Valinor?"

Elrond's eyes narrowed at King Thranduil. "I have learned how to love and care for the children placed into my care. King or not, Thranduil needs lessons in this."

Mandos smiled, nodding in agreement, "None can speak against you as a loving father and mentor to all who come to you. Have a care, though, if your pride grows too great, you shall be tested and honed even further."

Her King gave Elrond a murderous look. "I will not let him take Anniel from this land."

"Thranduil, you are mistaken in your belief that Anniel is your wife reborn," Estë addressed him gently, and with great compassion. "She is not your lost Queen, but an innocent. It is Anniel's choice to whom her heart and body are offered, and she has chosen well."

Mandos put a hand on Thranduil's shoulder. "Son of Oropher, I swear to you this night I have never held your wife's soul in my keeping. Your Queen lives, as do both the children she bore you in Valmar. They've since settled in a lovely deep forest the Valar set aside for your wood-elves to call home."

Thranduil shook his head. "She would not have left me," he stated, certain.

"I gave her a choice," Mandos told him, "which of the two children lived, for only one could survive. Or the Woodland Queen could save both your son and daughter, but it required her to leave Middle Earth immediately, carried by one of the Great Eagles across the sea without even a moment's delay. If she tarried to say her farewells to you and Legolas Greenleaf, one of the twins would die."

"She chose to leave, so both children would survive," Estë added, her voice filled with sympathy. "The Shadow's evil was great and terrible. It has brought you to the brink of ruin and madness, and even the youngest among your charges are plagued with fear and doubts and know little of joy or peace."

The Valië caressed the side of Thranduil's face, tenderly. "It is time for you to seek the place of healing and rest I have made for you."

Thranduil's brow furrowed, "What if they don't want to go?" He sounded so tired and unhappy. "Do I just abandon them?"

"No, you are their King, whom they trust and look to for wisdom and guidance. Speak to them," Mandos commanded him, one of the few beings who could command a King and have the order obeyed. "Tell them of the new lands awaiting them, a place of safety and contentment, all their own. You can also tell them Eru is well pleased with their valiant fight against the evil of Sauron and the Valar have heard the strains of Eru's song being renewed, the souls of the fallen are soon to be reborn to the First Ones. The gift of children will be given once again to those of the First Race who ask for such a blessing, but only if they leave Middle Earth and come home where they belong."

Estë turned her attention to Anniel and Elrond, "Your courageous bride has offered her womb as a vessel to carry souls who wish to return to flesh and take part in the next verse of Eru's song. Are you willing to raise up these souls as well, son of Eärendil?

Elrond nodded, "Of course, I will never turn down the blessing of a child."

"Good," she nodded, and then gave them each a kiss on the forehead. Her tender touch healed them, renewing their flagging spirits as only Estë was able to manage.

Almost as a afterthought, Mandos added, "I have a message to you from your father. Eärendil has been watching Arwen Undomiel and Aragorn, son of Arathorn, for many years. The matching of the children of his sons fills him with joy, while your attempts to thwart them have amused him greatly."

With a smile, Estë added, "They have the blessings of the Valar on their wedding tomorrow, for they were destined for each other, a love story to be told and retold as treasured among those who hear it as that of Luthien and Beren."

Anniel winced.

"Arwen is no longer one of the Eldar. She will be lost to me forever... how could I not try to stop her?" Elrond stated, angry and hurt.

"Why do you assume she is lost forever?" Mandos asked, puzzled.

Elrond scowled, impatiently. "When she dies a mortal death, my daughter will go to the Hall where Men go when they die with her husband and be lost to me for all time."

For the first time, Mandos looked surprised, shocked even. "Why would you think that?" He walked over to Elrond and looked deep into his eyes, reading his soul. "Have you always believed this to be true? Is this what you believe the fate of Elros was?"

"Yes." Elrond's eyes misted with unshed tears.

His hand gripped the Elf-lord's shoulder, "You and your brother were given a choice to be counted among Elves or Men in body, this is true, but there was no choice as to your souls and my dominion over them after you die. The Valar are not Eru and have no control over changing the fëa of an Elf into that of a Man. Illuvitar made you and your twin with the souls of the First Ones. The same is true with Arwen Undomiel."

Anniel put an arm around Elrond because he was trembling so badly she was worried he might collapse. "I can't believe..."

"Your belief is not required in this," Mandos smiled, a fierce expression. "Just as Anniel was greeted at the gates of my Hall by a redheaded wood-elf she holds as a sister, had you come to my gate, you would have been greeted by Elros and turned back to your flesh. You are a part of the what is to come and even falling out a window," Mandos looked pointedly at Anniel and Thranduil, "would not keep you from your destiny."

Elrond met her sheepish gaze, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion, "When did you fall out a window, Anniel?"

Anniel blanched. "This afternoon. I needed some air. I wasn't trying to fly."

"I caught hold of her before any flying could take place," Thranduil added, grimly.

Estë patted Thranduil's shoulder. "Had your reflexes not been up to the task, son of Oropher, I have it under good authority a pair of Great Eagles happen to be nesting on the cliffs below the palace to offer blessings on the marriage of King Elessar and Lady Arwen Undomiel tomorrow."

"One of them would have caught me?" Anniel marveled at the idea of flying.

Estë grinned. "Of course, child. The Great Eagles get annoyed when Elves try to fly because, of course, they lack proper wings."

At Anniel's indignant huff, Mandos added, "Perhaps, if you sing to them, they will give you a ride the next time you feel a need for air."

Anniel turned to Elrond, "Arwen never told you, but she met Elros at the same gate I remembered when I was near death in Caras Galadhon. She thought he was you."

"I..." Emotion choked him, and Anniel held him tight. The wood-elf kissed him. "Arwen is not lost to us, and I'm not going anywhere. You heard Mandos and Estë. You are stuck with me and we are going to be busy with as many babies as Ilúvatar and the Valar will give us."

Mandos shook his head. "We are not the ones responisble for handing out squalling infants. You will need to take it up with Yavanna, Eru has given dominion over rebirth to her. But I will admit I'm more than ready to be rid of some. Your fire-haired soul sister, for one. She is a constant source of trouble."

"As Tauriel was to me," Thranduil nodded in complete agreement.

"I would give her back gladly, but she has no kin into whom she can be reborn." Mandos sighed, "I will speak to Yavanna, myself. Take it as a sign of my desperation that if it were up to me, I would give her to you."

Anniel looked at Elrond expectantly, and he shrugged, "Fire-haired, you say? And just what sort of trouble are we talking about?"

"If we can find a bottle of wine that survived the feast," Thranduil said, "I will tell you exactly the trouble you can expect." The idea of Elrond and Anniel parenting a reborn Tauriel seemed to meet with his approval. "She always wanted to be high-born. I will petition the Valar myself on your behalf, if necessary." Thranduil eyed Anniel sagely, "Do not think I didn't know nearly all the mischief was her idea."

Elrond smiled, and hugged her tightly, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Anniel has managed to find trouble in Imladris without any assistance."

"Really?" Thranduil smirked, this news amusing him greatly.

"When we find that wine, I will tell you about the telepathic lynx who adopted your wood-elf Lady."

Anniel looked to Mandos and Estë to thank them, but the spot where the Valar had been standing moments before was now empty, and as she blinked there was a dizzy swirling sensation for a split second and then everyone was back in motion.

In the sky above them, on the horizon, the star of Eärendil was burning as bright as Anniel had ever seen it. "Look." She pointed, and Elrond's gaze followed. "Have you ever seen it so bright?"

"Once or twice, like on the night Arwen was born."

"I hope that means your father approves."

Elrond kissed her, in front of the entire company. When he set her back on her feet, he said, "Doesn't matter if he does or not." He went to one knee before her, sliding Vilya off his middle finger and onto hers, he said, "I pledge myself to you this night and for all the days and nights I have left to me."

Arwen gasped and clapped her hands in delight, which lead to everyone following, including her brothers and a grinning Legolas.

More wine was found and no blood was shed between Lord Elrond and King Thranduil, and for that, Anniel would be forever grateful to the Valar.


	8. Chapter 8

In Valmar, city of Valinor...

The marketplace was a constant hum of organized chaos.

The air felt especially fresh even at midday, with just a small bite of fall crispness. Seasons in the Undying Lands seemed to mirror seasons in Middle Earth, at least so far.

When presented with the opportunity to escape from the endless, mind numbing meetings Elrond was forced to attend since their arrival in Valinor, Anniel gave his hand a squeeze and followed a small group of Elves on their mission to secure items to serve as an improptu picnic lunch.

She traded the coins and collected her fruit from a stand with more choices than she had ever seen in one place before. If this stall was any indication, the year's harvest was a bountiful one.

"You overpaid for those apples, you know. They expect you to bargain, or at least hesitate for a few moments, then they will offer you a better price."

Anniel looked up from her bag to see a beautiful woman standing in front of her, blonde hair in a wreath of complicated braids and High Elven circlet on her forehead. Anniel blushed, "I'm not surprised. They were too beautiful to pass by, though."

"Yes, and you will find they taste even better than they look. The peaches are also plump and delicious."

The woman was staring at Anniel's chest, it made the wood-elf maiden uncomfortable until she realized it wasn't her cleavage or some spot on her dress under scrutiny, but the ring hanging from a silvery Mithril chain between her breasts. Her hand went to it, as it did when she was nervous and needed reassuring.

"That is a very special ring, is it not?" the High Elven Lady asked her.

Anniel smiled, holding up the ring to examine it. "To me, nothing is more special, but it used to have a greater purpose than just reminding me of a lover's promise."

"Promises are important. Especially ones made between lovers." There was sadness in the Lady's expression, and regret, too. "What is your name?"

Anniel hesitated, and then felt silly for it. "Anniel."

The Lady smiled at her, "Ah, yes, I thought you might be the newcomer I've heard so much about. You are the Woodland Queen's beautiful niece." Her fingertip brushed Vilya and Anniel's skin. "And there is much more to your history, I'm sure."

Wincing, Anniel said, "My life is more a short story than a history here in Valinor." She found herself suddenly surrounded by Elves who made Elrond seem young.

Laughing, the Lady shrugged, "Youth is something everyone must endure, but the pains of it pass with time and leave us stronger for the trials we've weathered."

"Thank you for the kindness, my Lady."

"It isn't kindness, but truth. Not all truths are kind." The Lady tilted her head, and seemed to consider for a moment, before adding, "I am Celebrian, and I have no doubt you have heard of me, as well."

Celebrian. This beautiful, elegant High Elf was Elrond's wife.

Anniel felt the burn of bile in her throat, couldn't do more than make a feeble sound of acknowledgment and start to back away, terrified and sick inside.

Celebrian wasn't going to let her get away though. "Anniel, what is it? Are you feeling unwell? You look as if you might faint."

There was a bench a short distance behind them and Elrond's wife took her by the arm and steered her until the back of Anniel's knees bumped it. "Sit, Anniel. I will be back in a moment, don't try to move." Celebrian left her where she was for a few minutes and returned with a clay cup of cool water from one of the vendors. She put to the cup to her parched lips, gently coaxing, "Take a sip, Anniel, please."

The word please brought Anniel's scattered thoughts back into focus, and she did as Celebrian asked her, sipping the water. The ringing in her ears subsided as a hand gently caressed her cheek.

"Listen to me, young one. I'm not a threat to you. I'm relieved Elrond found someone to give his heart to. When I left him, I was certain I'd never see him again. He would soldier on for Arwen's sake, and then the darkness would swallow him whole."

"It very nearly did," Elrond said.

Anniel blinked up at him, surprised by his appearance.

"Did you think I wouldn't feel your distress and not come running to save you?" He tutted at her. "I'm not the only one. Galadriel is here, too. I'm just better at pinpointing you in a crowded market."

"My fault entirely," Celebrian sighed, looking guilty. "I'm sorry I distressed you, Anniel. That was never my intention. I saw Vilya hanging around your neck, and my curiosity overwhelmed my sense of propriety. I've heard so much about you. The Woodland Queen is over the moon to have one of her kindred finally find their way home, her brother's only offspring, at that. From all the gossip, I was expecting you to be a child, but you are a fully grown woman. If I was thinking, I would have asked my mother to make formal introductions, not accosted you in the market."

Elrond shook his head, "The fault is mine, as well. I should have made introductions myself in the last week, but I was worried for Anniel's sake." Elrond pressed a kiss to the top of Anniel's head and an arm around her shoulders. "In a fit of jealousy, Thranduil told her she would have no claim over my heart once we arrived in Valinor and I was reunited with you."

Celebrian gasped, horrified, and then outraged. "What a hideously cruel thing to say to your young lover! No wonder she nearly fainted dead away when I introduced myself. King or no, Thranduil should be ashamed of himself."

"He felt remorse, well after the damage had already been done, of course." He scowled. "I very nearly ran my blade through him for it, though, because the black seed he planted likes to sprout at the most unexpected moments and cause Anniel to doubt her worth and question my devotion."

Celebrian sat on the bench beside Annlel and pulled her into an embrace. "Elrond is all yours, Anniel. I joyfully give him into your keeping. You've already worked a miracle just to have convinced him to come home and be healed." She straightened up and huffed, "Wait until I tell his wife what Thranduil's done! To her niece, no less."

Elrond laughed. "You will find, my dear Anniel, Celebrian is every bit as much of a meddling busybody as her noble Lady mother ever was."

"I'm standing behind you, and you well know it," Galadriel said, with friendly menace.

"Are you?" he chided. "I had no idea."

Celebrian sighed, "Some things never change, even after thousands of years. Those two are best kept apart, the more leagues apart, the better."

To Anniel, she said, "Welcome to our family, precious little sister," and kissed her on her forehead. "I've always wanted to know what it would be like to grow up in Greenwood the Great with the wood-elves. You must tell me over a cup of tea."

Anniel nodded, too stunned to speak.

"Good, it is settled," Celebrian smiled, a smile more of Celeborn than Galadriel. "Have you decided when to have your wedding? I love weddings."

Lord Elrond snorted, "No, but I'm sure it will be the topic of many conversations in the years to come." He took Anniel's hand and helped her to her feet. "Have I mentioned Anniel asked the Valar for many children?"

Celebrian gave a little, undignified squeak of happiness. "Oh, I'm so glad. I adore babies." She hugged Anniel until the wood-elf couldn't breathe.

The End


	9. After The King's Return - Arwen's Story

Arwen didn't see the crown placed on Aragorn's head. Too many bodies separated her from the steps where he knelt. She could picture him, though, in her mind's eye. Gandolf the White held the crown aloft, and it was enough for her that her Aragorn, her Elessar, reclaim what his ancestors had lost generations before he was born.

And then it was done. The crowd atop Minas Tirith cheered their King.

King Elessar sang of his devotion to his people and his voice warmed her, as it always did, when he sang. It was never as often as Arwen would have liked. His burdens were too heavy: the Ranger, the Dúnedain, the reluctant hero of Middle Earth forced to live in the shadows while evil overtook their world.

Everything in her wanted to toss the White Tree banner she held aside and run into his arms. A strange pain in her chest made it hard to draw a proper breath. She wasn't entirely accustomed to the vulnerabilities of this mortal flesh she wore, yet. And as her father was forever reminding her during the journey here, her strength wasn't fully recovered from her brush with death.

He was so close now, passing with a nod or a small smile each of the people he'd fought beside, shed blood with.

And then he stopped before the delegation of Elves. Legolas stepped forward to greet him, as Prince of Mirkwood and chosen representative of all Elvendom in Middle Earth and as one of Aragorn's dearest friends.

After they exchanged words, his blonde head incline slightly in her direction, giving her and her father away as the Elves around her parted to allow the banner she held to be seen for the first time.

King Elessar's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of her father. Did Aragorn truly believe Elrond would miss his Coronation day? He'd raise Estel as if he were one of his sons. Never once did a milestone in the Man's life go unnoticed by her father.

Slowly, Arwen drew the White Tree banner away to reveal herself to him. He paled slightly when their eyes met, as if he were seeing a ghost and not really her in the flesh before him.

When Arwen hesitated, a warm hand gripped her shoulder and her father whispered reassuring words... go to him. The mortal heart in her chest pounded like war drums.

They'd decided to surprise Aragorn. So, Arwen kept herself in seclusion since arriving in Minas Tirith, so as not to spoil the surprise. That didn't mean she'd not heard of the shieldmaiden of Rohan and how she'd sought to win Aragorn's favor before all of Rohan.

What if Arwen had come too late? What if those whispered rumors were fact and her Estel, her hope, had given his heart to someone else when he'd thought her lost to him? And why shouldn't he? Arwen was no royal Princess, only the daughter of a half-Elven Lord, her father hadn't wanted a King's diadem for himself or his children. The other woman was the niece of Rohan's King and now heir to his thrown. Who

Standing before him, her head bowed humbly, Arwen couldn't bring herself to search his eyes and see what? Pity? Regret? Or worse... nothing at all.

Gentle fingers lifted her chin, made her gather her failed courage and look into the face she'd forsaken all eternity for. Even if he'd given his heart to another in her absence, Arwen could not have made another choice, so devout was her bond with him. And yet, before he left with the Fellowship he'd tried to tell her it was naught but a dream and she was mistaken in her love for him.

The newly crowned King took the banner from her trembling hand. His eyes mirrored her terrified expression back to her, and then his lips claimed hers.

The joyous roar of approval from the crowd echoed perfectly the roar of her own blood in her ears as they kissed.

Her lover. Her life. Alive. Whole. Arwen couldn't help but touch him in wonder, as he did the same with her. Then she laughed, relief and joy washing away the fears, as Aragorn lifted her off her feet and spun her. She clung to him, unable to let go.

His fingers continued to caress her cheek as if he thought she might turn to mist and disappear in the next heartbeat. Arwen wouldn't. Not now that they were here at last after such a long, perilous struggle to be together. With his hand in hers, Arwen felt as if she could do anything at all.

As the Coronation feast dragged on, Aragorn found it harder and harder to keep his pleasant, interested expression in place. Arwen had been at his side throughout the day, and now she looked frail, tired. He wanted to scoop her up into his arms and carry her to bed. Not for pleasure, neither of them was up for intimacy tonight, but so he could hold her.

Aragorn glanced at Lord Elrond, seated on Arwen's right at the long table, and there was a tightness around his eyes, not weariness but concern. He'd hovered at his daughter's shoulder most of the day with his sons at his back like an honor guard. There hadn't been time to speak to him beyond thanking him for coming and for bringing Arwen to Minas Tirith.

Not having her here on this day, her soft hand in his, Aragorn didn't want to dwell on how hollow he was without her, but it just wouldn't have been a day worth remembering.

"I thank you all for being here this day," King Elessar addressed the table and all who supped with him. "You have traveled far and deserve a proper night's rest. I bid you goodnight."

"The hour grows late," Arwen agreed quietly. She took his hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles.

When he returned the gesture, lips lingering against her skin for more than a few seconds, her brother cleared his throat loudly. He sent an annoyed scowl in the direction of her brothers. "You'll still be here in the morning, won't you? I'm not going to wake to find you were just a dream?"

Arwen's answering smile warmed his heart. "I'm here in the flesh, my King. And I have no plans to go anywhere without you."

"You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. We have spent too much time apart." Aragorn stood, and helped Arwen to her feet. She swayed, just a little and her father's hands braced her arms as the new King watched her with alarm.

The look Elrond sent his way wasn't warm, if anything, there was a warning in it. "We will take our leave of you, now, King Elessar. There is much I would like to discuss with you on the morrow." Make time for me, the Elf-lord implied.

Aragorn nodded, "Of course. I will see you at your convenience, Lord Elrond." Elrond and Arwen left, but her brothers lingered, so he asked them, "Is Arwen unwell?"

"She is mortal, King. Her strength waxes and wanes." The normally friendly Elladan he'd thought of as a brother was gone, and there was a coldness Aragorn didn't understand. "She chose you over life immortal and now she pays a price."

Aragorn realized what he was saying and winced. "Lord Elrond told me she was dying..." Terror filled his heart with ice. Was she still dying? Had she only come here to see him one last time before the end?

"Arwen is strong, yet, she will live," her other brother, Elrohir, offered. "But she is not completely healed and travel is taxing on her strength."

Elladan scowled at them both. "What taxed her strength this day was worry you'd forsaken her for dead King's niece while she lay dying for love of you." His words were naught but a whisper, and wouldn't carry to the others in the hall who might gossip.

"No. Never." All the good food and wine turned to lead in his stomach at the thought, Arwen had seemed unsure when she'd come to him at the Coronation... "Not even when I thought her lost to me to the Undying Lands. There was never anyone else from the moment I laid eyes on her. How can she not know this?"

"Perhaps, your majesty, you need to tell her more plainly."

Aragorn spun on his heel, to go do just that, but Legolas' hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Not tonight, my friend."

"Elladan, our foster brother loves Arwen..." Elrohir put himself between them, as Legolas had. "My brother is still adjusting to Arwen being mortal, as are we all. You may find the pain of losing her someday makes our tempers hot."

Legolas smiled, playing peacemaker and helping to take the conversation back to civility, "Yours aren't the only hot tempers in Minas Tirith of late. Twice I had to physically block our would be King from saddling his horse to ride for Imladris and Arwen. He was like a bear with a broken tooth."

"How could I be expected to listen to reports on restocking the larders when Arwen could be dead or dying?" Aragorn's voice rose enough in pitch and volume to attract the eyes of everyone still lingering in the Great Hall.

Elladan laid a grudging hand on his shoulder, "Peace, brother. I have no right to fault you for Arwen's choice, as much as I would like to. My sister knows her mind. And her heart."

"I want to hold her," he whispered, more like a lost child than a King.

Elladan sighed, nodding his head. "I suggest you marry her. And do it quickly. Until then, we are going to dog your every moment with her and keep you from her bed."

"You should be worried about our father," Elrohir added. "If you do not marry Arwen soon, I would suggest Legolas and the dwarf stand guard over you while you sleep."

He tossed restlessly in his sleep, moaning occasionally like something pained him. From her place at the foot of his bed, Arwen watched over King Elessar until she couldn't bear his tossing and turning any longer. She removed her cloak and dress and climbed into the large bed to lay beside him.

Settling in with him, it only took a few moments for his arms to come around her and pull her against his chest. Her beloved sighed, a contented sound followed quickly with the soft, rhythmic breathing of deep slumber.

Now, Arwen thought, we can both find rest.

Hours passed and it was his gasp of surprise in her ear that woke Arwen from a pleasant dream.

"Arwen, how did you get in here? Your brothers... your father..." Each word increased in volume and level of alarm.

Her finger pressed to his lips. "Hush, my King. A friend of mine has pledged to keep the twins abed until at least midday. And you have nothing to fear from my father." She smiled wickedly, "For I know his secret. He wants grandchildren desperately, and my brothers can't seem to figure out how to make them, so the task has fallen to us."

When the frown didn't ease from his brow, Arwen turned over, so they lay face to face.

His rough hand cupped her cheek, "Arwen..." Words seemed to fail him, and it took him several minutes to compose himself enough to continue. "I love you. From the first, and with every heartbeat since. Please believe that." Tears welled in his eyes. "You are the only one I will ever want."

Arwen wondered what her brothers told him after she and her father retired. She kissed him, slowly and sweetly reassuring him. No rushing. They had all the time in the world, it seemed to her now. "Beloved Elessar, I believe you, as I have always believed in you, trusted you. My father stubbornly chooses to see only my death, your death, but first there is life, and I wouldn't trade a life with you for a million years in Valinor."

"I don't know anything about taking an Elven Lord's daughter as my wife," he insisted. "There must be customs to observe, or traditional rituals, but those things were never shared with an outsider like me. Tell me what I must do, Arwen, to make you my Queen."

A dry lecture on Elven traditions was the last thing on Arwen's mind. This morning was for passion, and they were well beyond things requiring words to express. Her hand cupped him intimately, and he drew a sharp breath.

Her handsome Dúnedain soon found himself flat on his back with Arwen's sex hovering above his face, just out of reach of his lips. Her tongue teased the tip of his phallus with little licks on the soft flesh. "Do not say another word..." she threatened, teasing him.

The smart Man who would soon be her husband didn't have to be told twice. Strong hands captured her hips and pulled Arwen lower, so he could taste her. His thumbs spread her folds and his tongue flicked and stroked the slick flesh until he drew low moans from her, interrupting her mouth working his cock.

She had to pull back from her pleasuring of him, letting out a cry of joy as his tongue entered her. His lips were like greedy fire, and his tongue claimed her.

Elessar rolled them over and Arwen was too boneless to resist as he lifted her thighs to his broad shoulders and buried his face her in sex. She was throbbing and very sensitive as he lapped at her abundant juices. The hair from his beard prickled her, a counterpoint of sensation against the magical strokes of his tongue. They dragged moans from her, while the short teases made her grind against his face wantonly.

His hands caught her wrists and held them captive at her sides. She pulled against him as the world exploded into a million shards of color, each a small bit of the whole of her pleasure.

She was released from his grip and he returned her trembling legs to the bed. "I want to be inside you, love," he sighed, lips against her cheek. "But, you could get pregnant..."

Arwen kissed the bridge of his nose, the worry lines on his forehead. "No. A ritual is required for that."

"It takes a ritual to have a baby?"

She rolled her eyes, "Haven't you ever wondered why there aren't more children running about, or a dozen babies conceived just at each Midsummer? It isn't for lack of sex."

"I never really thought much about it."

Arwen tutted, "Maybe you should have asked my brothers before you started climbing into beds. You know that we Elfkind can't have a child with a Man unless we are mortal ourselves, but even between two Elves there is a ritual to prepare the womb and the seed for creating a child, so no child is unexpected or unwanted." The look on his face made her giggle. "Oh, don't worry, I've heard it's quite fun."

"I've never found Elven rituals to be fun," he grumbled.

"Poor Estel, you didn't have me around to make them fun."

Their bodies fit perfectly together, soft female and hard male. More than intercourse this first time, after such a long separation, they fully devoted the morning to worshipping each other.

The chamber echoed with their cries of passion and release until their need was exhausted and they slept with Elessar wrapped protectively around her.

"But, when?" Aragorn frowned at his beloved. The whole process was taking too long. They had Elrond's blessing, finally, so why the delay?

Arwen patted his arm affectionately, and he noticed Legolas put a hand over his mouth to cover an amused smile. He let some of his frustration find the blonde Elf as it's target. "You! If you aren't going to be helpful in this process, why are you in my private chambers? Shouldn't you be sticking arrows in something?" It was a good natured jest, mostly.

Legolas laughed, "I'm a bale of hay for you to stick your ill tempered barbs into, it seems, your Majesty."

Arwen gave him a disapproving huff, and he sighed, "Forgive me, Legolas. I'm still adjusting to how blessedly long it takes for anything to get done in a palace. Unlike you, I didn't grow up to life at Court."

"I've never planned a Royal Wedding, and Valar have mercy, I hope I never have to."

"Legolas!" Arwen gasped. "You don't want to get married someday and have children?"

Legolas shrugged, "Not really. At least, not for a long while, yet."

"When you find the right person, it will happen, whether you plan on it or not," Arwen said, quietly.

"Arwen, is something wrong with Lord Elrond today?"

Arwen took a sip from her wine goblet as if she hadn't heard him. Her father was indeed angry and Arwen couldn't be the least bit sorry she'd had a hand in causing it. "My father plans to leave for Valinor in a few years, after I'm 'sufficiently settled' here with you, and maybe held our son a few times. The Ring Bearers will take the last ship into the West."

He frowned because Aragorn couldn't fathom how one had anything to do with the other. "Your brothers told me they have no desire to leave Middle Earth, yet. Is that why he is upset?"

Arwen beamed at him, full of mischief. "Not at all. He never expected them to leave Middle Earth while you and I live, and perhaps they will decide to stay and offer wisdom to our children and grandchildren before sailing West..."

For a moment, Arwen wondered if she should share the secret with her husband to be, or wait until it played out more. In the end, she decided to trust him. "I've had a suspicion about my father for years, and I'm about to see it proven correct."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. She laughed, such a beautiful sound it attracted the attention of many at the table for the midday meal.

Arwen lowered her voice, "Father has been solitary for a very long time. I'm worried about him. I fear when he gets to Valinor, without his children or Imladris to keep him busy, he'll be unhappy, or worse, lost."

"That sounds like Lord Elrond," he agreed. "And your suspicion is?"

Arwen glanced up at him coyly from under her dark lashes, "My father is in love."

Aragorn blinked at her, clearly not expecting her to say Lord Elrond had feelings for someone. "Are you sure? How can you tell?"

Arwen lowered her voice to barely a whisper, "I know my father better than anyone. I've suspected he had a lover, but he is very discreet. As well he should be, too. She's even younger than I." Arwen grinned, playfully scandalized by her father's secret. She squeezed his hand, "I told you a friend bedded the twins, so we would be left in peace. My brothers have been seeking to win her favor for a decade. Father wasn't pleased when he didn't find one of the twins camped outside my door, but when he learned why they were elsewhere, and more importantly with whom they spent their night..." She took another sip of wine. "My father wouldn't act possessive if this was just a casual partner, and I think he's terribly jealous."

"How do you know this friend hasn't bedded the twins at some Midsummer?"

The look she gave him was full of amused exasperation. "You've been around them, and you know how they are. Surly you've heard them endlessly brag of their conquests!" She rolled her eyes, "They have been politely, but firmly, refused each Midsummer for at least the last five years. Drove them nearly to maddness, too. She usually spends Midsummer reading in my father's library with me. And now, I know why."

He took her hand and kissed it. "I don't understand why it makes you so happy, but if you are happy, then I am, too."

"Oh, I don't think his anger is directed at the twins as much as at himself," she mused aloud. "Of course, my brothers had no idea they were trespassing on someone my father considers his. And if he'd made a claim on her, public or private, she wouldn't have agreed to be my diversion no matter how unfairly my father is treating us. I'm sure she enjoyed it as much as they did. I not only have to hear my brothers' boasting, I get the females of Imladris sighing dreamily over them for weeks after every Midsummer."

At his furrowed brow, she added, "Don't you see? We don't have to worry about him, now."

Now, the light of understanding dawned on his face. "You're matchmaking, so he'll have someone to build a new life with."

"I didn't need to do much. They've been lovers for many years. And I'm not ashamed to meddle; he did his best to keep us parted, did he not?"

"What about your mother?"

"My brothers and I never held out hope for a joyous reunion, not after so much time has passed. We hope Mother has found someone new in the Undying Lands. Don't you agree my Father deserves a second wife... and more children?"

He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze, "I agree. Who is she, anyway? Carrying on a secret affair with your father. That is truly courageous."

Arwen walked out into the fresh air of the terrace and looked down onto the balcony below and to the left. Sure enough, a couple occupied the bench, kissing and embracing the way she would find on a Midsummer in Imladris and not early spring in Minas Tirith.

"What are you..."

She turned and put a finger to Aragorn's lips. "Hush. Say nothing and just look down there." She pointed to the railing and followed behind him as her lover took a quick look and then backed up out of the line of sight of the couple below.

Arwen took his hand and dragged him back inside.

"That's his mysterious lover? I've seen her before, in Rivendell, I think."

"Anniel is cousin to Legolas, my Grandmother sent her to Rivendell to recover from Shadow sickness."

"She's pretty," Aragorn said, and then winced because it was probably not a thing Arwen's future husband should say. He added, "If you like blonde elves. Personally, I prefer you and your dark hair."

"Nice save," Legolas chuckled, gliding into the room as he always did. "Arwen, why do you want to marry this... filthy, smelly Man, anyway? You have your choice of Elves." He headed for the balcony. "Who are we spying on?" He returned a half second later, pale and frowning.

Arwen put a hand on his chest. "Legolas, leave them be."

"How did I not notice that?"

"Father loves her or he would never have kept her a secret from us for so long."

Legolas winced. "My father…"

"Anniel is going to the Undying Lands with him," Arwen insisted, firmly.

"Not if my father gets his hands on her, she isn't."

That got Aragorn's attention. "Why not?" His curiosity was aroused, now. "She's obviously happy. And if she suffered from Shadow sickness like Arwen, she would be better off in Valinor."

Legolas sighed, and muttered under his breath, "Lord Elrond may get his wish to cross swords with my father, after all."

To Arwen and Aragorn he said, "My father thinks Anniel is my mother's soul reborn." Soul mates were important to the Elves.

"I thought your mother sailed into the West?" Arwen asked.

"My father never believed that. Mother wouldn't have left us without a very good reason, and she never said anything was wrong." Legolas looked as sad as Arwen had ever seen him. "We were never able to discover the truth of her fate one way or the other, but there is no denying how much Anniel looks like my mother. The resemblance is so strong it's like seeing my mother, sometimes."

"When did Lord Elrond say he wanted to fight Thranduil, and why?" Aragorn asked, an amused smile on his lips because he knew Legolas and Elrond shared a bed many a Midsummer and it wasn't with the knowledge or approval of Legolas' father.

Legolas shrugged, "It was years ago."

"We invited King Thraduil to our wedding," Arwen confessed. "Do you think he'll decide to accept the invitation?"

"I hope not," Legolas groaned. "For Anniel's sake."

"I have a favor to ask of you, Anniel."

Anniel looked up from her writing, "I am at your service, as always, my Lady."

"You aren't a servant or a companion, you are my friend," Arwen scolded her. "We have been more than friends at Midsummer, and you know it." She took her hand. "I want you to sing for me, at my wedding."

Anniel's jaw dropped. When she could, she said, "I don't know that I deserve such a great honor."

Arwen smiled at her young friend, "You are forever too modest. Anniel, you saved my life. Don't think I don't know it, or will ever forget it."

"I didn't do anything." But even as she said it, the words felt false. Something had happened, it just wasn't something Anniel understood or could explain. "It wasn't my voice that spoke."

Arwen smiled. "No, I know that. I still have no idea who spoke, but I do know what I saw."

"Saw? What did you see?"

"I was at the gates of a great Hall. There was a guard at the gate, and I thought it was my father as he shut the gate before me. I called to him, "Father!" He smiled at me and it was then that I could see the differences, it wasn't Ada."

Anniel's mind flashed back to her own experience at a gate. "A huge black iron gate with a complicated symbol worked into it?"

"Yes!" Arwen gasped. "You've seen it, too?! How? When?"

"When I was near death in Lothlorien, years ago."

"The man spoke to me. He said he was not my father, but my uncle, Elros, father's twin brother. Anniel, they were identical, even more so than Elladan and Elrohir. I told him as much. He laughed and said my brothers favored their mother with pretty faces he and my father didn't get."

Both women laughed at that.

"I asked him why he locked me out. He said my death at this time would break his brother, and neither he nor Mandos would do such a thing to Elrond if it could be helped. Then, he showed me my body, and you were kneeling beside me, singing a plea to the Valar. Uncle said you are very clever and found just the right song to close the gate before me. To save me."

Anniel gasped. "Arwen, I don't know what to say."

Arwen hugged her hard. "I owe you."

"Did you tell your father what you saw?"

Arwen shook her head, "There hasn't really been a good time, and I think it might hurt him to talk about his brother."

Lord Elrond pulled King Elessar aside. In a lowered voice, he said, "I think it time we speak of your marriage to Arwen."

"Of course, Lord Elrond. I always value your wisdom, and that will never change."

"I have loved you like a son, tried to guide you to the best of my abilities, but do not make my daughter regret her choice to leave her family to be with you. If I find you've made her unhappy, there is no place in Middle Earth you will be able to hide that I will not track you and carve your heart out. Treat my daughter well and you will always have an ally in myself and my sons."

Aragorn swallowed hard. "I would never... Arwen is everything to me."

"As she should be."

"Are you really leaving Middle Earth?"

"I am, yes." The look on the King's face tugged at Elrond's heart. He looked very much like the young Estel in that moment. "There is nothing left for me to do here. It's time to turn Imladris over to someone else and start a new chapter for myself."

Aragorn's lips quirked. "And you'll be taking someone with you."

"I hope to, yes."

The King smiled at his mentor, "Love looks good on you." It was a cheeky thing to say, but he meant it sincerely. Love wasn't an easy thing to find for the oldest of the Eldar. They tended to become increasingly hard hearted through the ages of watching the people they care most for die or sail from their lives.

Elrond gave him a frown. "I hope the fact that you know about Anniel means Arwen approves. I'd hate to see their friendship damaged."

"We want you to be happy in Valinor."

Elrond considered that. "Every road has bumps and obstacles to be overcome, even the happiest of roads." There was a deeper meaning, a learned lesson, behind the words. "The secrets are perseverance and empathy." He smiled at the Man who was like a son to him, "Those will serve a newly crowned King, as well."

"What of patience?" Aragorn chided. Everyone in the palace was on edge because their King was impatient, and increasingly bad tempered, wanting to wed Arwen Undomiel.

Elrond sighed, "Patience is harder to come by. Just wait until the Dwarf contingent gets here from Erebor. I'm looking forward to seeing how you handle it."

"Mean spirited of you to take such pleasure in my suffering."

Lord Elrond laid a hand on his shoulder, and he returned it with his own. The familiar gesture was not one he shared with his old mentor very often. "You will meet the challenge as you have every other, but I must admit, aside from Gimli the son of Gloin, I've always found Dwarves to be a pain in the ass."

Aragorn threw back his head and laughed, "You don't know how many times I've heard as much from Legolas!"

"Legolas would know, as well as I," Elrond chuckled. "King Thranduil threw Thorin Oakenshield and his entire company into his dungeons on sight. I wish I'd thought of it, myself."

Aragorn smiled, "I haven't met Thranduil. I've always wanted to, but Legolas was not so eager. We sent him an invitation to the wedding."

The look on Elrond's face was priceless. "Now, that, would be interesting."

"It seemed like the polite thing to do."

Elrond shrugged, "Maybe, he will be intrigued enough by you and the stories of the battles you've fought to come out of his forest fortress to greet the newest King in Middle Earth."

"Only time will tell."


End file.
